Independence
by toeventually
Summary: Everything does not go perfectly after Brennan's pregnancy announcement. Brennan desires to maintain her independence and struggles to understand Booth. Contains both fluff and angst!
1. Aftermath

Author notes:

This is my first fanfiction. In fact, I've been largely out sync with the writing side of myself for some years now. I would like to get back into it, and decided this might be a good way. I would love some feedback on this, and to be told frankly if I should keep going or not. I have a few plot points in mind, but am unsure if I should (if I do continue) go more with a series of one-shots, or a cohesive story. I know this idea has been killed since the episode aired, but… I guess I couldn't help myself.

Really, opinions would be lovely. I've never done this before and I don't want to start something silly.

* * *

><p>"I'm pregnant. You're the father."<p>

The smiles that crept upon their faces betrayed to the world an unspeakable happiness, each consumed within their own thoughts:

Brennan, of the fear she'd had in confiding in Booth. She'd told him, that morning before Broadsky was caught, that this was a possibility, but the matter had not been brought up since. He'd given no further explanation into his own opinions of the matter, and her attempts to slide the idea his direction to gauge his reaction earlier that day had been largely unsuccessful. She wasn't entirely sure what she thought of the situation just yet, but she did know, seeing that bright, genuine grin, the one thing she'd been worried sick about all day would trouble her no longer.

Booth's thoughts were clouded by a warming sensation in his gut and reminisces of a dream he had only hoped would someday come true. His mind flashed to visions of another time, another place, another Brennan, clad in black, with red fingernails and clunky black earrings, sitting on his lap, tugging at his tie. Of nuzzling noses, smiles. He was vaguely aware of his own actions as he took a step forward and embraced her: a tight hug, one of their guy hugs, more for himself than for her, to ensure she was real, that this was not just a dream.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Booth asked through grinning lips, a chuckle in his throat, slipping one hand down to her waist.

"No, of course not. As I told you, I have not been sexually active for some time now, which was ultimately the basis for –"

"Shh." Booth held a finger over her mouth and continued holding her, savoring the moment as long as possible. He knew it wouldn't be long before Bones would find some way to wrestle her way out of his embrace – she always did, never having been the cuddling type.

"Booth, we're standing on a street corner. Should we keep walking?" However, she made no move to tear away.

"Bones." Booth said, the grin receding to a contented, dreamy smile. Always his Bones, stating the obvious. "Bones," he half chuckled, then released her from his grasp.

"I know this is not a comfortable situation for you, with your religion dictating extramarital intercourse a sin, but I –"

"Bones," Booth said for the third time. He'd had some time to process the information by now, as much as he could process it. At any rate, he was no longer completely dumbfounded. "Bones. Listen, we don't need to worry about any of that right now. You're right, we should keep walking. It's late. Let's just get you home. We'll talk more once we get to the car, okay?" He turned to keep walking down the road, the smile still present on his lips, if somewhat subdued. Instead of extending his hand, he extended an elbow, inviting her to lace arms with him as they'd done four weeks ago after sending off Vincent.

She slipped her arm through his and they set off down the street. They were on their way to where Booth had parked the SUV. In their haste to arrive at the hospital, they had foregone searching for a close parking spot and taken one three blocks away. They were nearly there, though. It had taken Brennan a few blocks to work up the courage to get out what she knew had to be said, which was an odd realization for Brennan, who was not accustomed to working herself up to saying anything.

Booth opened the SUV passenger door for Brennan, who got in without asking to drive. Booth started the car, and they pulled out onto the DC streets, heading for Bones' place.

Brennan's mind was still working on overdrive. There were so many things she felt needed to be said, and he'd said they would talk in the car. She needed to get these thoughts off her mind, into someone else's. She needed Booth to hear them. She needed him to know that he had options. Like two years ago, she didn't want to pressure him into anything. She was still willing to raise the child by herself, without him, still willing to get the legal protection he'd need. Whatever he wanted.

"I could get an abortion."

"What!" Booth slammed on the brakes to stop at a stoplight that was still green, not caring about anyone behind him, and turned to Brennan. "How can you even say that!" he asked incredulously.

"I just want you to know that you have options!" Brennan exclaimed repentantly, her eyes wide, looking into Booth's. "I apologize. I've obviously upset you." She turned her head away from him to look out the window, eyes focused on a street lamp.

Booth reached over and placed a hand on her leg. "Bones." Brennan looked back at him. "Do you want this baby?" His tone was an odd one: there were two thought processes simultaneously running through his head. The first, obvious one, and what he had initially intended upon speaking the words, was that of a rhetorical question. They'd been over this; he knew she wanted a child. However, as he spoke the words, he realized that there was the potential that she didn't want the child at all. There was the chance that she'd only ever wanted a child because she knew she could have one without emotional baggage, that now that there was an emotional connection, she would shirk from the prospect. So, ultimately, his question that started with a cool, level tone of voice, ended with his voice cracking an octave higher than the question began.

She turned to look at the hand on her thigh. "Y…yes. Yes, I do." Yes, she did. Most definitely. There had been some doubt initially, but seeing Michael, seeing Angela tonight, had shelved her personal indecision.

"Then that's settled." Booth rubbed her thigh gently and looked back at the light. It was red now. Typical.

"Booth." He looked back at her. "Do _you_ want this baby?"

'_More than you know, Bones.'_ He wanted to tell her just that, but knew she would only ask why it was more than she knew, and to explain, because surely she would understand. So, instead, he offered an illustration. "Sometimes, life throws you lemons, and you've gotta make lemonade. You've gotta take what you're given and make the best of it." The light turned green again, so Booth's eyes were back on the road. "This isn't one of those cases, though. This is like… when you ask God for a loaf of bread and he gives you enough to feed five thousand people. It's more than you ever hoped for."

Brennan paused to consider this metaphor/biblical allusion. She was tempted to explain to him how that particular myth was surely severely overstated and in all likelihood the bread had been donated by local farmers, but kept the train of thought on subject. "So… that's a yes?"

"Yes, Bones. Yes." He smiled again, glancing back at her, at her midsection, that same fluttering, warm feeling emerging once again in his gut.

Brennan was silent for a moment, considering. "But Parker was the lemon case?"

"Bones! Do we really need to have this discussion?"

"Yes! Yes, we do, Booth! You have another child out of wedlock, another accident, and for some reason that was bad, but us having a child is good? I fail to see the difference." There was a pause here, Brennan expecting Booth to say something, but he merely continued driving, eyes on the road, brow furrowed as if deep in thought, so Brennan went on, "We've been together for less than a month, Booth. You'd been with Rebecca longer than that when you found out about Parker. I just don't understand how you can be so happy about this when you've already made this mistake once and seen how it turned out." Her heart felt heavy – she was vocalizing her internal struggle.

"Okay, first off," Booth began, lifting a hand from the wheel and gesturing at nothing in particular, "Parker is the best thing that ever happened to me. We've been over this before." He paused to take a breath, but Brennan cut him off.

"And then you proposed to Rebecca, which effectively ended your relationship!" Brennan was yelling now, emotions she usually kept contained welling up inside again. Wetness began to collect in her eyes, and she was reminded of a night not many months prior, sitting in this seat, opening her heart to him, and subsequently having her heart crushed.

Booth turned into the parking lot servicing Brennan's apartment. He knew she was on the verge of tears, but said nothing more than, "Bones," in his most comforting tone, choosing to park and turn the key to the off position before turning to her.

Brennan sat with her hands folded in her lap, head hung, hair shielding her face from his view, but he could see a teardrop coalesce, a single droplet dangling at the apex of her chin. It hit the purple fabric of her trench coat. Booth placed his hand atop the darkened spot.

"Bones. This is different. You're not Rebecca." Brennan shifted a bit at this, and Booth saw her swallow, chin lifting slightly and angling more toward him. "Did you want me to propose to you?" He asked, a hint of a gentle joke in his tone.

Brennan chuckled one of her deep-throated laughs that Booth found so endearing. A toothed smile spread as she turned to look at his chest and said, "No."

"Okay, good, 'cause I've… I've learned that lesson by now." He put a finger under her chin, gently lifting her face to his, and placed a single, quick kiss on her lips. "C'mon, let's get you home." He groaned slightly as he opened the door and jumped out of the car, intending to rush around and open the passenger door for Brennan, but she got out of her own accord, and was straightening her coat when he made it around to her side. "I was gonna help you out, Bones."

"I am perfectly capable of getting myself out of the car, Booth." There was an edge to her voice, one that Booth couldn't exactly place. Brennan was thinking again. She couldn't shake his description of 'different.' He had never explained why the situation was any different. Obviously, the lack of a proposal made for one difference, and the lack of a long-term relationship precluding pregnancy was another difference, but there was something more her partner was holding back.

"Never said you weren't, Bones."

They made their way, arm in arm again, up the stairs to the second floor and Brennan's apartment. At her door, they stopped.

Booth perked up, and, knowing it was best to be frank, "Can I stay?"

Brennan sighed, looking down as she fumbled with her keys. "I'd prefer not, Booth. I need some time to myself tonight. You understand?" Still not looking at him, she slipped the proper key into her door and unlocked it, beginning to push the door in.

"Hey!" Booth shoved an arm into the doorframe. "Not even a goodbye kiss?" he asked, smirking slightly.

"Oh, all right." Brennan allowed Booth to pull her close, an arm around her waist and the other on her cheek, and they kissed: a deep kiss, consisting of at least five steamboats. As they pulled away, Booth immediately knelt down, startling Brennan by his sudden movement, and planted a quick kiss on Brennan's abdomen.

"Booth, the fetus can't feel that right now."

"Baby, Bones. And I know he can't, but _you_ can." A childlike grin emerged on Booth's face as Brennan gave him one of her best 'You really think you're clever, don't you?' looks.

"Goodnight, Booth," she said, pushing her door in.

"Goodnight, Bones. Call me if you need anything. I don't care what time it is."

Brennan just smiled and shut the door behind her.

Booth placed a hand on the wood paneling of her door, running his fingers over the surface. He was fairly certain that was _not_ how this announcement was supposed to play out, but he'd run with it. He turned, and made his way back to the SUV.


	2. Lonely Night

Author's note:

I got some positive reviews, and quite a number of hits. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. It's short, but I felt the need to go into this and it needs its own chapter.

* * *

><p>'<em>A baby! Bones is having a baby! MY baby!'<em> Booth's thoughts on his ride home consisted primarily of the word 'baby,' interspersed with lots of 'Bones' and 'happy.'

When he got back to his place, he pulled as many of Parker's baby pictures as he could find from their respective places scattered about his apartment. His favorite had been taken just after Parker was born. They were still in the hospital, Booth holding his son's pink little body, gazing in wonder at the tiny miracle. Booth undid the back of the frame and pulled out an ultrasound picture he remembered storing back there. He hadn't looked at it since he put the picture in the frame years ago. The simple black and white picture stirred up even more warm feelings.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Booth knew he needed to sort out some more serious aspects of the situation in his mind, but right now all he could think was:

'_Bones is having my baby!'_

* * *

><p>'<em>I just slammed the door in his face. Am I allowed to slam the door in his face?'<em>

'_You've only been together a month. It seems perfectly logical that you could slam the door in his face.'_

'_But he hasn't upset me. I'm pregnant with his child! I can't slam the door on him!'_

'_You're hormonal.'_

'_I am not hormonal!'_

"I'm schizophrenic." Brennan collapsed on the couch, cradling her head in her hands. She'd thought talking to him would make things clearer, but it had only made it worse. The happiness brought on by his smile – such an endearing smile! – forced its way to the back of her mind as she could not help but focus on the bleak reality that Booth had ultimately left all the women he claimed to have loved. That he and Rebecca had not worked out. That Parker was a miracle, a blessing, and this child inside her was a blessing. And she was different somehow. For some reason, Brennan was different, but she had no idea why.

Her thoughts drifted back to that morning:

_Brennan held the strip with shaking hands. Five minutes. Five minutes and she would turn it over._

_Her period hadn't come when expected, but Brennan didn't initially worry. Irregularities were not uncommon in her cycle – her self-imposed variable work schedule and high stress job saw to that._

_The days dragged on. Brennan lost herself in the case and in her newfound relationship with Booth. A week after her missed period, Brennan purchased a pregnancy test, brought it home, stuck it in her bathroom cabinet so if Booth came over he wouldn't see it, and then forgot about it, or tried to. She decided every day she would take it the next day, if she still hadn't started. _

_Two weeks after her missed period – yesterday – she decided, once and for all, that if she hadn't seen her monthly visitor by morning, she would use it. _

_The wait was excruciating: the longest five minutes of her life. She sipped coffee and stared at the clock, breathing in and out slowly to calm her nerves. She rationalized that there was still a chance she could simply have missed this entire period. She comforted herself with the statistical knowledge that there was virtually no chance of a false negative (or positive). She reasoned that no matter the outcome, she could handle it. She had been willing to raise a child by herself previously, and she could do it now. She would not resort to begging Booth for his help, and she wouldn't need to. She could maintain her independence._

_Her phone alarm went off. Five minutes. She took a deep breath and flipped the stick over._

_Apparently Brennan used the test properly – there were two blue lines on the stick. She exhaled deeply, then tossed the test into the wastebasket, and made her way to work with no further fanfare, save a somewhat deluded smile and a light spring in her step. She was happy, initially, about the news. She felt relief to know what was going on and to feel somewhat in control of her body again. She kept thinking the same thought:_

'_I'm having Booth's baby!'_

Now was the first time she'd had to herself to think since this morning, and Brennan found that she was much more irrational than she'd been that morning. In fact, she found that her logical musings were making her _more_ irrational. Possibilities, options flew through her mind.

She rolled onto her side on the couch, bringing one of the pillows up under her head. She was so tired; the couch had never felt more comfortable.

It had been going so well. They'd been drawn together for years, and the romantic relationship had simply fallen into place. It was like it had always been this way, because, in a way, it always had. They'd always cared about each other; they'd trusted each other for years. Brennan just hoped that they could go back to how things were, when this inevitably pulled them apart. Booth said he wouldn't propose, but Brennan knew it was only a matter of time. It was only a matter of time until Booth's religious beliefs took over his actions. Brennan would say no, and it would be over.

It would be over. The tears started falling again, wetting her hair and the green fabric of the pillow. She cried, and cried, until she couldn't remember what it was she was crying about in the first place. She just knew she was crying, and it was cathartic.

Somewhere between her last sliver of consciousness and sleep, Brennan felt the beginnings of a dream. A cool cloth on her forehead, a gentle touch, a soothing, familiar voice.

"_Everything's going to be fine, Temperance." _

A content smile crept across her face, and Brennan slept.


	3. The Decision

Author Notes:

I'm so pleased people are enjoying this! I would like to offer a disclaimer here, saying that I am very bad with romantic interactions and thus will try to avoid them, so that explains the lack thereof. Also, there will soon be more of the other characters.

As far as updates, go, I will try to update at least every other day, just so you know! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>The soft sound of the piano drifted to Brennan's ears in the aftermath of a long, sweet dream. She felt rested, comforted, willing to seize the day for what it was and what she could make it. As she stirred slowly into wakefulness, the piano piece went quiet and immediately began repeating. It was her phone. She groggily reached for where she'd set her bag on the coffee table the night before and answered dazedly, "Hello?"<p>

"Bones! You okay? Did I wake you up?" Booth's excited voice came entered her ear.

"Yes. Yes, I seem to have fallen asleep… on the couch. What time is it?" Brennan groaned slightly as she pushed herself into a sitting position. The couch had been extremely comfortable when she collapsed against it the night before, but she was quickly finding it may not have been her best idea of late. Her back was sore, shoulder sore from sleeping on it, her neck had a slight crick in it, her makeup was still on, and her bladder felt ready to burst.

"On the couch! Bones, that isn't good for you. Do you need me to come—"

"Booth, what time is it?" Brennan asked again, further urgency creeping into her voice. She looked around, but none of her clocks were in her line of sight. She could see a window, however, and it looked like full daylight, so it was at least seven, at the earliest.

"Nine-thirty—"

"BOOTH! Why didn't you call me earlier? I'm late for work!" She groaned again as she rose from the couch and started her way to the kitchen to make a quick cup of coffee (decaf?). Brennan knew she wouldn't be able to function without it.

"It's okay, I already talked to Cam. She knows you had a late night. I told her I'd call you."

"You talked to Cam?" She sighed as she turned on the coffee maker. "Booth… You didn't tell her, did you?"

"No, but I gotta tell you, I wanted to."

Brennan sighed on her way to the bathroom. "You should not tell anyone yet, especially since there is the possibility of miscarriage."

"O… okay. What are the chances now?"

"About ten percent. Maybe a bit higher, as this is my first pregnancy." There was a pause, and Brennan heard an intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Booth, that leaves nearly a ninety percent chance of no miscarriage."

"I know, Bones, it's just -"

"I find my body severely requires urination, Booth. I'll let you know when I get to the lab." She clicked off the phone and continued her early morning routine in a rushed fashion.

Not ten minutes later, as she was running out the door, she felt her phone buzz with a new text message. It was from Booth, of course. _'Wait. Is it safe for you to drive?'_

'_Yes, Booth. I'm pregnant, not invalid.'_She texted back, heading to the lab with the pleasant knowledge that Booth was still thinking about her.

* * *

><p>"I don't want a repeat of Angela's pregnancy, Booth."<p>

"What do you mean by that?"

They were in Brennan's apartment, per Booth's request. It had been a long Friday at work for both of them. Without cases, Brennan had spent all day with Wendell trying to identify and catalogue the occupants of Limbo. While she did enjoy his presence, she found that she hungered for a different kind of companionship: her best friend, Angela. The lab was uncharacteristically quiet without her, and with Hodgins gone as well, Brennan couldn't remember a normal workday that had ever dragged on so long.

Now, the two were on her couch, Booth sitting and Brennan laying across him, the same pillow she'd slept on the night before beneath her head. Booth's arm rested firmly across Brennan's waist. There was no television going, although Booth had made sure it got hooked up within a week of their relationship.

"_I can't miss this game, Bones! Where's your TV?"_

"_The closet. I told you."_

"_Let me hook it up. Whoa! Where'd you get such a huge TV?"_

"_The salesman informed me it was an excellent purchase. Is there something wrong?"_

_Booth stared at the forty-six inch flat screen. "Bones, I am going with you the next time you shop for electronics."_

"When she and Hodgins announced it, everyone already knew. I would like control over our news," Brennan stated, staring at the opposite wall.

"Of course! We just won't tell anyone."

She continued as if Booth had said nothing, "However, I find I am far more concerned about telling them that we are… a couple."

"You're more concerned about telling them we're together, than telling them you're pregnant," Booth raised an eyebrow. Brennan was always a little backward, but, really? "Can't have one without the other, Bones!"

"I have presented the desire to have a child in the past, so I cannot imagine it would surprise them overmuch. They will likely assume I used your sperm."

There was a thoughtful pause between both parties. "We could run with that."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, tell everyone you just used my… used my stuff, y'know?"

"That would be lying, Booth."

"It would keep the FBI from splitting us up."

There was no denying that both had thought long and hard about the prospect, but there had been something of an unspoken agreement. Neither had brought up the possibility of a split. The idea was too painful to think about for long periods of time, and breaching the subject aloud would have proven far more painful. Brennan turned onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows, now looking directly into Booth's eyes. His had a twinge of – what was it, pride? Yes, he was proud of himself for this revelation. "That would be lying, Booth," Brennan repeated, somewhat more slowly this time.

"I know how you feel about white lies, Bones, but, it's like Santa. It's for the greater good." A grin matched the playful twinkle in his eyes.

"I fail to see the parallel between our co-workers and children who are not old enough to make proper analytical judgments for themselves."

He largely ignored her argument. "It's for the greater good, because we'll still be able to work together. We're what keeps our team together. The center must hold, remember? If they split us up…" While his words said one thing, his mind thought another. He loved her squints, but their relationship was far more important to him than the greater good. He wanted her more than he wanted to be her partner, and if (and probably when) the time came that the distinction had to be made, he could handle the split. But, there was the possibility for the best of both worlds, and Booth was willing to go for it despite mild moral transgressions.

Brennan listened to his assertion, recognizing the truth in his words. The longer she silently mulled over the prospect, the more tantalizing it became, and the wider the thin-lipped smile spread across her face, eyes matching the playfulness in Booth's. The idea that they could keep their work relationship, tell everyone about the pregnancy, and still be together was almost too good to be true. While the white lie did bother her, she mumbled, "For the greater good," while nodding softly.

Booth leaned over her and they shared a slow kiss. The hand that had been on her waist traveled to just under her chin as his other hand moved behind her head. Brennan reached her arms around her partner, pulling him on top of her.

"Bones! Back!"

Booth readjusted to a better position, where he wasn't in danger of throwing his back out. Once he was more comfortable, Brennan once again pulled his mouth to hers, kissing almost feverishly, and unconsciously, almost fearfully, as if the moment could end at any moment.

Somewhere in the back of Brennan's mind, a part of her couldn't help but see an additional benefit to this arrangement. There could be no affectionate displays in public and Booth would have to be careful about the amount of time they were seen together, or a certain FBI psychologist would get extremely curious. _'Booth will have to let me be. He will have to.'_

Even as Booth consciously realized that this situation was only temporary, that they could keep their relationship a secret for only so long, his unconscious mind made another connection so oblique and hidden he could not comprehend the idea at that moment: Brennan would play all the way into this arrangement, possibly so far as to bury herself in it.

'_For the greater good.'_

'_For us.'_


	4. Revelation

"Ange."

"Brennan! How are you, sweetie?"

It was five days after Michael's birth, and the first time Brennan had spoken with Angela since. Despite Brennan's self-admitted desire to see her best friend, she felt some apprehension in barging into her newfound motherhood. On her drive home from the Jeffersonian, Brennan gave Angela a call to inquire availability.

"Can I come over?"

"Oh, sure, yeah. Hold… hold on just a second." The line went silent and Brennan heard some faint crying in the background that gradually got louder, then quieted again. "Sorry, sweetie. Michael just woke up. When will you be here?"

"I'm on my way now. Give me ten minutes."

"Sure! We can have some girl time! Plus Michael, I swear, I can't put him down for ten minutes if he's not asleep."

Brennan smiled. "I'll see you in a few."

* * *

><p>Hodgins opened the door of their condo. "Hi, Dr. B! Here to see my family?" Hodgins was absolutely beaming. Sure, he looked tired, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that surpassed even his enjoyment when examining a particularly rare bug.<p>

"Yes, thank you," Brennan said, as Hodgins closed the door behind her.

"Brennan!" Angela emerged from around a corner, holding a cream colored bundle in her arms, a white-toothed smile contrasting her dark skin.

The two women met in the foyer and kissed each other on the cheek. Brennan looked down at the tiny bundle. There was a face poking out of the blanket: dark-skinned, dark-eyed, dark-haired like his mother, but Brennan already recognized Hodgins' features in the child and could not help but draw the parallel between their hair: curly and matted against the head. The eyes were only partially open, blinking as if he was close to falling back asleep. A single hand also poked out of the wrappings, the exquisitely tiny fingers, and even tinier fingernails, clenching and unclenching air.

Brennan slipped a finger into his and felt the gentle pressure. She looked up at Angela, who was watching her friend interact with her son.

"Come sit down." Angela gestured to the living room.

The entire home was open-concept and the living room was no exception. An entire wall was devoted to floor-length windows and a sliding glass door leading out to a patio. The second wall had doors leading to three bedrooms, a third had an open kitchen and dining area, and the last open archways to two additional 'rooms:' what appeared to be Hodgins' office and Angela's studio. The living room had two modern-appearing couches, white against the dark carpeting.

The two friends sat down. As Hodgins began to sit next to his wife, Angela raised a hand and, with a flicking motion, bade him away. "Girl time, Jack. You'll see Brennan at work next week." Hodgins gave Angela a look, rolling his eyes as he walked away toward his office.

The girls focused back on Michael, quietly gazing for a few moments. Brennan was the first to speak, "I know this is irrational, Ange, but… I find myself thinking that… he's just… He's so perfect, Ange. Objectively, I know perfection is impossible, and he has flaws just like you and I, but…"

Angela just smiled. "You want to hold him?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't. I don't want him to cry. I'm not good with children," which was Brennan code for, _'What if he doesn't like me?'_

"That's total crap, Brennan." Angela tenderly shoved Michael into her friend's arms. "You took care of a baby for the length of a murder investigation, and he was totally happy. Plus," Angela winked, "you have bigger boobs than me. He'll love you."

Brennan gave her a pointed stare, then looked down at the wriggling bundle she was holding. His eyes were open now. Brennan saw her reflection in those dark, almost black orbs. She could not help but scan his skull for further confirmation of facial features. "He appears to have Hodgins' nasal bone and mandible, but he has your zygomatics. I would also conclude that he has your frontal bone, but it is unclear at this point." Brennan looked up to see her friend staring at her. "What?"

"I don't know, you just look so… motherly."

Could Angela already tell? "I do? Why?" Brennan asked, her voice perhaps a tone or two higher than usual.

Angela put a hand on her friend's arm. "Truthfully? You always do, Brennan. You're the most mothering non-mother I know, and it's all the more special because you don't realize it."

Brennan's eyes began to water. Again? How many times could she get emotional in so few days? Brennan swallowed, looked down at Michael one more time, and then looked back at her friend, at the eyes that matched those of the baby she held in her arms. "I find I want to share something with you, but it makes me uneasy and… anxious."

"Go ahead, sweetie. Whatever it is, it's fine."

She shook her head. "Booth doesn't know I'm here."

Angela laughed, then cocked her head to the side. "Is that it? Booth doesn't know you're here and that makes you anxious? I don't think he cares if you come to see me on your own time."

"No, I mean, he will probably be calling me at any point to find out why I haven't called him to let him know that I'm home yet…"

"Why does he expect you to call him? Something up between you two?" Angela's eyes rapidly switched from Brennan's left eye to her right eye, trying to read her friend's facial expression as she could not ascertain the meaning behind her friend's words.

"Yes. Yes, something is definitely up, but I shouldn't tell you."

"Brennan, look at me. Good something, or bad something? You're scaring me."

"I've already said too much. I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Brennan! Did you do something stupid? Don't tell me you broke up with him! Bren, say something!"

As Michael writhed in her arms, Brennan knew she had gone too far to turn back now. Brennan found that she desperately desired to divulge to Angela her news, although she could not use their artificial insemination story on her friend. There was no use lying here, and Booth would surely understand her need to inform her friend. Brennan looked into Angela's eyes. "I'm pregnant."

"OH MY GOD! BRENNAN!" Angela squealed and embraced her friend – a quick embrace to ensure that Michael did not suffocate between them. Brennan smiled ear-to-ear with her friend's reaction.

"You okay in there!" Hodgins called from his office.

"We're fine, Jack! Mind your own business!" She turned back to Brennan, and in an excited half-whisper, "Was this intentional? We're talking direct deposit here, right? You didn't use his sperm before you finally hooked up? Because that would be low."

"No, Ange. The conception was… natural." Angela squealed again, more quietly this time, as she was now less than a foot from her friend's face and didn't want to alert Hodgins. Brennan continued, "I'm still adjusting, but Booth is thrilled, which I find odd, considering his religious associations."

Angela chuckled once. "Of course he's thrilled! He's been dreaming of this for years!"

"I highly—" But Angela interrupted her.

"We're going to get to raise our babies together!" She craned her neck so that her face was very near her son's and tickled his cheek. "You're going to have a little girlfriend, Michael!"

"Angela, there is no indication of gender at this point –"

"Oh, don't give me that. She's definitely a girl."

Brennan smiled at her friend's certainty, then continued on a more serious train of thought that had to be addressed. "You can't tell Hodgins."

"You guys waiting for the end of first trimester, too?"

"Yes, that is one reason, but primarily… We have decided that in order to maintain the sanctity of the forensic lab, we will be informing everyone that this was done via artificial insemination."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "Sanctity of the forensic lab? Who are you kidding, Bren? Not yourself, surely." She shook her head. "But whatever. I won't tell. Just please tell me you're a better actress than I remember."

"Booth has informed me that I am an excellent actress."

"Since when is Booth qualified to decide that?"

"He now has direct experience. I have found that despite his prudish approach to sexual roleplaying in the past, in practice he is quite receptive." This comment elicited a quick gasp and moderately shocked expression from Angela, who was about to inquire further when Brennan's phone began ringing. She handed Michael back to his mother before digging her phone out of her pocket. "Talk of the devil. I know I did not share the news with you first, which would have been the anthropological equal to your own pregnancy news, but I hope you realize I still love you like a sister. Metaphorically speaking, of course."

"I know, Bren."

Brennan rose from her seat. "I should be going. I'll be in touch."

"Bye, sweetie!" Angela watched as Brennan left her home, answering her phone in the process, and sighed to herself. "Speak of the devil, Brennan. _Speak_ of the devil."


	5. Back in Action

Author's Note:

I originally intended to go a little more into the case presented here, but I decided against it. I would like to eventually tackle a case fic, but I am going to keep this one more relationship focused. Cases may be referenced obliquely, but they will not be fleshed out.

I would love to hear what everyone thinks! I'm flattered by the number of alerts this seems to have garnered, but I haven't heard from many of you. I really do appreciate comments and criticism. 

* * *

><p>"Miss Wick, I assure you I have other business to attend to. You surpassed a "few" questions fifteen minutes ago." Daisy Wick had begun the conversation nearly thirty minutes prior with the seemingly innocent request for a "few" questions about her thesis. While Brennan would normally have been hesitant to review a student's paper during working hours, murders had been few and far between for a few weeks now and she found that she and Daisy had little to do otherwise. Brennan's patience, however, was running thin. She could only take so much Daisy in one sitting.<p>

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Brennan, but I just have one more. Do you think—"

"Bones! Why aren't you answering your phone? I've called you five times in the last twenty minutes!" Booth barged into her office, face slightly flustered and breaths heavy, as if he'd run there from the parking lot.

Brennan grabbed her phone, movements agitated, and saw that, indeed, there were five missed calls from 'Seeley Booth.' She looked to Booth. "Miss Wick has been pestering me incessantly with questions for the last thirty minutes, and I did not notice it ringing."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan—"

"We've got a case! We gotta go! Back in action! You ready, baby?" Daisy looked at Booth a little strangely at the "baby" comment, and Booth quickly corrected with, "I mean, Bones."

However, Brennan did not listen to a word after "case." "I am going to be late to a crime scene because of you, Miss Wick! If authorities have disturbed the scene by the time I get there, I will be holding you responsible!" She paused, grabbing all of her things and making her way to the door. On the way out, "If you require so much of my time to answer simple questions, maybe you shouldn't be writing a thesis at all!" Booth stood staring at the two women, mouth slightly agape in shock. As Brennan passed him, she grabbed his arm so he would walk and dragged him along beside her.

Booth wasn't sure if he should say anything, as Brennan had a pretty tight grip on his arm at the moment, but couldn't stand to see her hurt one of her interns so much, especially when she probably had no idea she'd just severely hurt Daisy's feelings. "Bones, that was a little harsh."

Brennan had calmed down slightly by now, but she did not loosen her grip on Booth's arm and did not stop walking. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and said calmly, "She can be highly invasive and I often wonder why I re-hired her."

"It's just…" Booth began, choosing his words carefully, "You may have really hurt her feelings, which I don't think you intended to do."

Brennan pinched her lips together before saying, stiffly, "You said we have a case?"

"Yep! Some housing developers found a body while digging the foundation for a new house. All the meaty parts are gone, so…"

"That sounds boring."

"Boring, but completely safe."

"Have you been rejecting cases based on your evaluation of how _safe_ they are? Is _that_ why we haven't had a case in two weeks, since the bowling incident?" They were in the parking lot now, but she lowered her voice anyway, "How many times do I have to tell you? I am _pregnant_ not _invalid_."

Booth didn't say anything for a moment. She was right, she knew she was right, and he didn't know if he should confirm that or try to lie his way out of it. He decided on the truth, although not a direct answer to her accusations, "I don't want you to get hurt."

"You _don't want me to get hurt_! You're the one who's liable to get hurt, _Seeley Booth_!"

"Bones, we'll discuss this in the car. Get in and stop yelling. Someone's going to think I'm kidnapping you."

"You might as well be." She slammed the door shut behind her and quieted until he sat down in the driver's seat. "Choosing where I go, what I get to do. Do you know how stir crazy I am getting in the lab all day, nothing to do?"

'_Yes, as a matter of fact, you demonstrated that to me just a few moments ago.'_ Booth said nothing, starting the car and pulling out.

"Say something, Booth!"

"I'm not fighting with you. You're in a mood, and I'm not fighting with you."

"I am not in a mood! Everyone is being _extremely_ antagonistic today!"

"You're hormonal, Bones! You're in a mood! It's fine, I'm okay with it, but I am not fighting with you right now because that will lead us nowhere good."

Brennan exhaled, brows furrowed and lips in a pout, and she turned to stare out the window. After a few moments of breathing slowly, she tried to think about her actions. Perhaps she had been a bit harsh on Daisy, and she certainly shouldn't have taken that frustration out on Booth. However, "I don't want to be left out of cases."

Booth had anticipated her asking about this. "Look, Bones. We have a case now; we'll bring this back up once we've solved it. That sound fair?"

Brennan fought the urge to roll her eyes. "...Yes." She looked out the window a few moments longer. "How far away is the subdivision?"

"Eh, five, ten miles. Why?"

"I don't have my suit on. I'll change in the backseat." Brennan grabbed her standard jumpsuit, unbuckled, and before Booth could stop her, was groaning as she tumbled over into the third and final row of seats in the SUV.

"Bones! What are you doing? Bones!" He tried to grab her as she slipped between the seats, but succeeded only in getting his hand inadvertently kicked out of the way. "You can't be unbuckled in the car!"

"You don't wear your seatbelt," she said with a smirk as she leaned over to take off her heels.

"It's different!"

"I see no difference, Booth."

Booth glanced at her reflection on the rearview mirror. "Are you taking your clothes off? Don't you normally just slip that thing on over whatever you're wearing?"

"Yes, when it is cold, but it is currently over ninety degrees Fahrenheit. Also, I am wearing a skirt today, which is impossible to accommodate in this suit."

Booth shook his head. "All this time, and you've never changed in the back of my SUV before."

"I think you know why."

"Just… stay low."

"Why? The windows' are tinted and their visible light transmission is a low enough percentage that no other drivers will be able to see me."

"I'm more worried about me, Bones."

"Ohhhhhhh." Brenan grinned sheepishly. "I'll stay low."


	6. Protect Her

"Where's Bones?" Booth asked as he dashed through the doorway of Cam's autopsy suite. He needed to find Brennan, although the cause was not terribly urgent. There were some case files to go over, which he currently carried under his arm, but he was more worried about her health in general. Brennan had sent him one of the files earlier, which he had gone through with unprecedented care. He made a long list of chemicals that sounded harmful and looked them all up online. The websites listed as a carcinogen, and now he was worried sick that she was putting herself into danger.

Cam was in her standard tight-fitting blue suit, bent over a body that was more blood than skin-toned. Booth had seen plenty of dead bodies, working with Bones, but he normally had some time to prepare himself. He hadn't been prepared for this one. "Geez, Cam! That's disgusting!"

Cam turned around and placed a gloved hand on her hip. "Booth, I am a coroner. You just entered a room that says "Autopsy" over the doorway. What did you expect to find?"

Booth had _expected_ to find Cam at her desk. "We have a case, and _that_ is not the bones that were found at the construction site."

"Bones, exactly. She won't let me near them, so I am here, away from her bones, doing my job." Cam smiled grimly, "As a coroner."

"But she's not out there."

"She wasn't on the platform?"

"Nope."

"In her office?"

"Nuh-uh."

"You thought she would be in here?" Cam raised an eyebrow.

"You're her boss, Camille. I thought you were supposed to keep up with her?"

"You're her partner, Seeley. I thought that meant _you_ kept up with her."

"I don't work here!" Booth threw his hands up exasperatedly.

"She probably went to the bathroom. I think she's been drinking too much coffee; lately she's been in there a lot more than usual," Cam said nonchalantly.

Booth tried to sound casual. "She has?"

Cam nodded, then, noticing the worried look on Booth's face, "I don't think there's anything to be worried about, Booth. She's not sick or…" A peculiar look on Booth's face prompted, "Do you know something I don't know?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Instead of trying to make up a coherent answer or excuse, he changed the subject. "Look. I was going over the case files, and…" He paused and licked his lips before continuing, "There's acrylamide in whatever it is she's studying."

"I can't believe you can pronounce that."

"I looked it up. Cam, this stuff causes cancer! She doesn't need to be messing with it!"

"Booth, we have safety precautions. She's perfectly safe. We all are."

Booth glanced behind him, as if making sure they were alone. "Can you do something for me? Just, to make me feel better about all this?"

"I don't do favors for just anyone, Booth."

"For Bones, really."

Cam cocked her head to the side, then gestured toward Booth as she inquired, "Okay, what is it?"

"Just make sure she doesn't… make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, y'know?"

Cam's brows furrowed. "No… I don't know. Stupid like, not going after the one thing that will make the two of you happy, stupid?"

Booth sighed and waved his hands. "No, stupid like putting her health at risk! I don't want her to get hurt. You guys deal with so many chemicals and potential biological hazards every day, and something could happen to her. I can't be here all the time to make sure she's safe, so I need someone else to."

Cam smiled. She found Booth in his worried-about-Brennan state particularly endearing. "Dr. Brennan is a grown woman and knows how to take care of herself." Cam paused. "However, as her boss, I suppose I can be a tad more watchful, at least until you tell me what exactly all this is _really_ about."

Booth opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, and repeated this process three or four times before he finally crossed his arms and pinched his lips together. Cam was still smiling at him, eyes twinkling as if she knew something he didn't know. "Just protect her, Cam. If I'm not here, protect her."

Booth turned and left Cam staring at his wake. She exhaled sharply, then turned back to her work. _'What the hell was that all about?'_

* * *

><p>When Booth checked Brennan's office for a second time, he found her sitting behind her desk, staring at her computer screen.<p>

"Acrylamide." Booth slapped the manila folder onto Brennan's desk.

Brennan looked away from the computer. She was caught off guard, not because he had surprised her, but because of his proper pronunciation of the word. Her brows furrowed and she glanced down at the folder on her desk before meeting his eyes again. "Yes, we found trace amounts of acrylamide on the bones and in the surrounding soil samples, indicating he was likely a smoker or spent extensive time around a smoker. There is also the possibility that he was around copious amounts of fried, starchy foods near time of death."

"Bones, I know. I read all of that. In the file."

"But… you never read the file."

Booth knocked his fist on the top of her desk in slight frustration. "Acrylamide is a carcinogen. It caused cancer in ten percent of lab rats with a high rate of tumors in a bunch of places including the uterus, okay?"

Brennan was taken aback. "How do you know that?"

"Wikipedia. The point is, you do not need to be messing with this stuff!"

"Booth. I wear gloves." Brennan showed him her best jazz fingers.

He sat down in the chair across from her and scooted it up to her desk. "Bones, the point is," he leaned toward her, hands clasped together, and rested his forearms on her desk. Looking into her teal eyes, his own brow furrowed in a slightly quizzical expression, he said slowly and sincerely, "You've gotta be careful."

"I know that, Booth." She reached her own hand across the table and laid it atop his, gently rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. "I'm being careful, and I will continue to be careful."

She smiled a thin smile, and Booth smiled a little in response. "I worry about you, Bones."

"I know if I'm working with something I shouldn't be. I will take precautionary measures if I am unsure of characteristics of the material, to ensure my safety."

"And the baby."

"Especially the baby. We are always careful of health concerns here, but I am being especially cautious."

They sat, both lost temporarily in the moment, rubbing each other's hands and staring into each other's eyes, corresponding thoughts and dreams of the future flitting through their heads. There was electricity not unlike the spark of unanswered desires that had sizzled between them for years, each wishing for something more in the moment, but not daring for more than this subtle hand contact in their present locale.

Brennan broke the reprieve, receding her hands from his grasp. "Let's get to work on those files."

He, too, pulled his arms off the table. "Yeah, I guess we should."


	7. Founding Fathers

Author's Notes:

I'm trying not to write too many of these because I find them distracting, but I want to give a big THANK YOU to all of you reading. I don't really understand how to decipher the meaning of the story stats, but I am very pleased that there seem to be some people enjoying this. I really love writing this. I know it's not my best work, but this is helping me with my most major writing flaw: droning on and on about nothing with no plot points to hit. By writing these short, serialized-style chapters, I'm beginning to understand the difference.

I would love to hear from you guys. Tell me what you think of my writing style? Anything you'd like to see more or less of? I'm doing this for improvement and criticism would be beneficial.

Also, if you have a certain plot point you'd like to see, feel free to share it. I have a rough idea of where I'm going with this, but I'd love to take a stab at it.

Last thing: I have become even MORE aware of how many fanfictions there are exactly like this one. I'm only reading two of them, and I don't spend much time on here so I didn't know about all the others. If I've done something similar to another one, and it's not one of the two currently in my favorites list, it's purely coincidental.

Okay! Sorry for all that! Please enjoy! 

* * *

><p>The room was lit by soft amber hues shining on the dark walls. Loud individual conversations melded into a single murmur, melded with the clink of glasses, melded with the sound of pouring liquid, to complete the ambiance. Booth and Brennan sat at a dimly lit table near the back brick wall, as opposed to their most frequent corner bar stools. Their seating arrangements were not alone in a group of differences: though Booth had his usual beer, Brennan was sipping raspberry flavored iced tea. She leaned forward on the table, supporting her upper body weight on her elbows and forearms. The fingertips of her left hand rested on Booth's sleeve.<p>

"We haven't been here in a while," Booth stated, taking a sip.

She tilted her head to the side as she did the math, at which Booth smiled, and then responded, "Five weeks and three days ago. The case after Vincent died. We didn't come after the bowling alley case because it was so late after waiting for Michael's birth."

Booth smiled and leaned closer to her. "There was also that _minor_ bombshell you dropped on me."

"I didn't drop a bomb on you. Oh, that's… that's metaphoric. Yes, that, too." She took a sip of her tea. "I find I am glad to be done with this case."

"Me, too. It was kinda…"

"Boring. It was boring."

Booth took a deep breath whilst leaning back in his chair, then exhaled as he moved back to the table before agreeing, "Yeah. Yeah, it was boring."

Brennan smirked deviously. "So back on exciting cases again?"

"That's what we need to talk about."

Brennan waited, but Booth was silent. "Shall I twiddle my fingers while I await your proclamation?"

Booth sighed at her misnomer. "Twiddle your _thumbs_, and no, I've already asked Hacker not to give us any cases involving obvious hazards. He looked at me a little funny, but he trusts me. Trusts us."

"Excellent," Brennan said, rubbing her hands together.

"Bones. If we do this, you can go to the crime scene, do all the lab work, interrogations, but I am _not_ taking you out into the field if there's even the slightest chance it'll be dangerous."

Brennan frowned, looking away from Booth for a moment. She knew he was only being protective of her, just trying to keep her safe, and ultimately, that he was correct. She could not possibly put herself into danger in her current condition, but she couldn't help but be moderately upset at the prospect of not going with him into the field. "You're right."

"I… I'm right?" He hadn't expected to win the argument so easily.

"Yes, Booth. You're right." She was still looking down, away from him, and there was a catch in her voice.

"Hey, Bones. Are you… are you okay? What's wrong?" He put a finger under her chin and gently lifted her head so he could see her eyes. They were red, the beginnings of tears pooling on her lower lids. "Bones." Booth scooted his chair closer to hers so he could snake his arm around her waist and pull her nearer.

Brennan leaned her head on his shoulder, face pointed downward into his chest. "I hate being emotional," she sniffled.

"You're fine, Bones." He began stroking her hair with the hand that was not around her waist. "Just tell me what's wrong. I didn't mean upset you."

In a low tone, she scoffed, "You're not the one who upset me, Booth. I find I am upset with myself."

Booth was bewildered. "Why?"

"Everything's changing, Booth. I can't go in the field with you anymore, I have to watch myself at work..." Ultimately, she was worried these restrictions would still apply in ten or so months, when she was off maternity leave and trying to get back into the normal routine. "I want you to tell me things will go back to the way they were before once the baby is born."

Booth assumed she was referring to their personal relationship. "Things will never be the way they were, Bones."

She responded by sobbing louder and pounding a fist into his chest, which Booth took with patience, and although she was not hitting him terribly hard, they were no love taps.

"This is your fault."

"What?"

"This, Booth!" She moved his hand from around her waist to her abdomen.

"I think this conversation traditionally happens in the delivery room," he said offhandedly, trying to diffuse the moment or at least get a smile out of her.

Brennan, not amused in the least, lifted her head from his chest and, in a tone so serious it startled Booth, said, "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

The part of him that had wanted to point out that it was not his entire fault, that she hadn't taken precautionary measures either, was abated by her tone. "I'm sorry."

"Your _sorrow_ will not inhibit our change in working relationship."

"No, it won't. We can't do anything to keep this from changing. It already has, and that's a good thing."

Brennan put her head back on Booth's shoulder and scooted closer to him. "Please…"

Booth wrapped both arms around her back. "I've got you. No matter what happens, we'll make it work. I promise."

"You can't possibly know that."

"I know, Bones. I know, because we've always made things work in the past. We can make this work, too."

Brennan sat, considering his certainty as he gently massaged her back. She could never understand how Booth was so confident in his feelings or how he possessed so much faith in their respective abilities to adapt. She was giving her well-being to him, which scared her so much, even after nearly two months of a companionship she had, in some primal, non-rational sense, strongly desired for years. Even with all her personal convictions and experience telling her to behave otherwise, she decided, in this moment, held in the arms of the man she had never intended to care so deeply for,_ 'I will stop doubting myself in this relationship. I will trust you to the best of my ability, Booth. Please don't make me regret that.'_

With this inner declaration, Brennan felt her heart relieved of an unnecessary weight. She was silent for some time before declaring, "I think I'm ready to go."

"Sure, Bones. You feel okay?"

"I'm fine," she lifted her body from his and sat up in her chair. "I would very much like to leave, though. I find I am not in the mood for this atmosphere right now."

"Sure, whatever you want." He placed some money on the table and stood up, then courteously helped Brennan out of her chair. "What are you in the mood for?"

Brennan moved in very close to him, not particularly caring if anyone saw her in this dark corner of the establishment. She didn't want to think about her doubts any more; she only wanted Booth. Her fingers slid into his hair from the base of his neck as he laced his arms around her waist. They kissed, just once, although this kiss would have more than satisfied Caroline's puckish side. "C'mon, Booth," she said, lips only inches away from his, "It's a Friday night. Taxi back to your place?"

Booth grinned. "Whatever you want, Bones," and he took her by the hand and led her out of the bar.


	8. Elevator Music

Author's Notes:

Here's the "hippie" elevator music, for your listening pleasure. I was listening to it as I wrote this chapter, so I just had to write it in! (Take out spaces) lullatone. bandcamp .com/album/elevator-music

This ended up way longer than expected, which is likely a good thing because I will not be able to update for a few days. Hopefully this will hold you over. I really enjoyed writing this chapter. (;

* * *

><p>"We could take the stairs," Brennan declared as she and Booth neared the elevator door in the Hodgins' condo building. The stairway door was just to the left.<p>

Booth punched the up arrow, which only briefly lit red before the metallic doors in front of them parted. He gestured with his arms for Brennan to go in ahead of him. "Bones, you're pregnant. Get in the elevator."

"They're only on the third floor. I'm not disabled, Booth." Booth raised an eyebrow, looking Brennan sternly in the eye. She stared back at him stubbornly for only a few seconds, noting the concern in his tone and face. She sighed and, with a little smile, gave in, "Fine."

"Tell me again, why does Angela want to see us?" Booth asked as he and Brennan stepped into the enclosed space. They had received an invitation from Angela for dinner tonight, although there was no doubt in Booth's mind Angela was planning more than just dinner. There was some elevator music playing, but not the traditional low-key classical stuff that made Booth want to bang his head on the walls in frustration. This was electronic and peppy. _'Of course. Hodgins lives in an upscale condo. Naturally, there's hippie elevator music.'_

"I believe she wants to broil us," Brennan stated absently as she pressed the button labeled with a three.

"It's grill… I feel like I've…" Booth felt a surge of déjà vu. He was relatively certain he had corrected that particular incorrect phrase before. "Never mind," he said as the door closed. "About what?"

"I would imagine she desires to extract the salacious details of our sexual relationship, seeing as I already told her about the pregnancy."

Booth shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna get told off?" The music changed songs. Was that snapping? "What is this stuff?"

"I believe it is termed 'elevator music,' Booth." Brennan was finding the off-beat tune pleasantly surprising.

"This is _not_ elevator music." The elevator stopped moving upward and the doors opened smoothly. "Finally," Booth said, exiting with much haste. He turned around to find Brennan still standing in the lift, head moving up and down slightly to the beat. "Bones!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You were right. I'm glad we took the elevator. That was nice. I think I shall ask the receptionist for the artist name. On the way out."

Booth mumbled, "We should've taken the stairs." They made their way to the Hodgins' door, upon which Booth knocked politely.

The door swung open less than a second later. Angela had obviously been waiting at the door for them. "I want to make this very clear right now. As soon as I can get Jack out of the room, we are having a discussion," she said quietly, eyes moving between Booth and Brennan, but spending most of their time on Booth. Then, as if she had only just opened the door, "Hey, you two! Come on in! Jack, our guests are here!" She closed the door behind her friends.

"Wow, I haven't been here since—" Booth began, referring to the murder they had solved in this very condo.

"We've cleaned it up since, then, Booth." Hodgins said as he rounded the corner. He was wearing a bright yellow apron and had a red and white striped oven mitt on one hand. "Hey, Dr. B! Dinner's almost ready. I'll have it out in five, if you guys want something to drink, I can—"

"I'll get it, Jack." Angela glanced pointedly at Brennan. "You just keep cooking. Dining room's this way, you two!" She motioned for Booth and Brennan to follow her. They passed through the living room, where the sun was beginning to set and reddish-orange light lengthened the shadows of all the furniture, into the dining room. Four places were set on the simple, modern mahogany table. As Booth and Brennan sat down next to each other, Angela moved into the kitchen. "Jack, can you go check on Michael?"

"He's fine, Ange. The baby monitor's right here." Hodgins pointed to the monitor, which was sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Just go check on him."

Hodgins gave Angela a look before taking his mitt off and heading off to Michael's nursery.

As soon as his back was turned, Angela had four wine glasses down and a bottle of sparkling grape juice pouring into the first of the glasses, making a point to show Brennan what she was doing before she filled the other three with wine. By the time Hodgins returned, she had already placed the glasses at the table in their respective positions.

"Thanks, Ange," said Brennan.

"No problem."

"He's fine, Ange." Hodgins insisted as he entered the dining room. An egg timer began emitting an incessant beeping. "Oh! It's done! I'll just plate everything real quick." And with that, he dashed into the kitchen.

Angela plopped down next to Brennan. "I'm holding off on the rant for now, because I don't think I can express myself adequately with him in the next room, but know that you two are not off the hook yet," she said, shaking her finger between the two of them.

Booth and Brennan shared a look. Brennan raised her eyebrows and Booth's eyes opened very wide as he settled back in his chair. There was a definite tension as they both looked back at Angela, who appeared rather angered with puckered lips and crossed arms.

"Don't look at me like that. You two brought this upon yourselves."

Brennan gave Angela a bewildered look as she protectively placed a hand on her midsection. She had truly believed her friend was happy about the news.

Angela shook her head. "That's not what I'm talking about, Bren. We'll get to that later," she finished with a wave of the hand. "Would it kill you two to call me? I appreciated the visit," she indicated to Brennan, "but that was four weeks ago, and you, Booth… Did you drop off the face of the earth? I've missed you guys. I've got two more weeks before I'm supposed to take Michael out of the house..."

"Can't Hodgins stay here?" Booth asked, brows furrowed.

"Oh, don't get me started. He says he's scared he'll do something wrong. Like I wasn't scared when he left me alone after two weeks?"

Booth shifted uncomfortably. "Shouldn't you be discussing this with him?"

"I will discuss it with anyone who will listen to me!"

The exchange unfolding before her unsettled Brennan, and she understood that Angela's irritation could be partially blamed on herself. "I should have called you, Ange, but I knew what you would want to talk about if I did, and I was not ready for that."

"Are you ready now?"

Brennan glanced back at Booth, who nodded slightly, before saying, "Yes, I believe I am."

"Okay, ladies and gent! I present to you, Hodgins ratatouille, almond chicken, and garlic bread!" He set plates before Angela and Brennan first, then ran back into the kitchen to retrieve his and Booth's. The somewhat silly yellow apron was off when he sat back down. Brennan's plate, naturally, had no chicken, but was loaded with an extra-large serving of ratatouille.

"I didn't know you could cook, Hodgins." Brennan shared, mouth watering as the aromas registered as scents to her extra-sensitive sense of smell.

"He loves cooking," Angela began as she dug a fork into her ratatouille. "The more precision required, the better. If he could figure out a way to use a microscope while cooking, he would."

"You know it, baby." Hodgins grinned.

Booth found himself amazed, for the umpteenth time, at the reality that he had become friends with the kind of people who even thought about using their microscopes to cook.

The conversation was light and friendly. Topics ranged from little Michael, to the gorgeous sunset, to the current case (although this subject did not last long, as Angela gave Hodgins death stares throughout the entire discussion), to Angela's father, who had been in town a few weeks prior.

As they were cleaning their plates, Brennan noticed that Booth had hardly touched his ratatouille. "You know, Booth, that is an excellent source of vital nutrients you are missing out on. Tomatoes have the highest lycopene concentration of any vegetable, which research suggests helps prevent prostate cancer. Garlic has also been proven to lower cancer rate, and, when consumed with a high protein diet, can increase testosterone levels. In addition, the zucchini—"

"Okay, I get the picture, Bones, but I'm not a rabbit! I ate my chicken and bread like a good boy, see?" He indicated to the portions of his plate that he _had_ cleared.

"The ancient Greeks believed carrots and basil to be potent aphrodisiacs."

"Aphro-what?"

"Mother Nature's Viagra," Angela succinctly put.

Booth's mouth dropped open. He looked to his partner, eyes wide with shock. "Bones!"

"Good to see some things never change!" Hodgins laughed as he stood up to clear the table. "I'm glad you guys liked it."

"This was excellent, Hodgins. Thank you," Brennan nodded and got up from her chair.

"We're going to see Michael. Leave us alone for a little bit while you clean up?" Angela and Booth also stood.

"Sure, Ange. I'll be in there once I finish."

"No rush!" Angela calmly led her guests into the nursery.

Booth slipped his arm around Brennan's waist to survey the scene. It was a bright room with cream walls, green trim, and dark hardwood flooring. The bassinet, rocking chair, bookshelf, and changing table were all the same color wood as the hardwood floors, which were adorned by a bright, thick, green and yellow rug. All of the linens flowed together via the green/yellow/cream/blue theme. Brennan moved toward the bassinet; Booth moved with her, keeping his arm around her. Michael was awake, but silent, eyes searching the mobile that hung at the foot of his bassinet.

"Can I hold him, Ange?"

"Yeah, sure." She shut the door.

Brennan gently lifted Michael from his resting space and tucked his little body into the crook of her arm. She felt a wave of calm overtake her as she gazed into his little dark eyes. Booth stared at Brennan with the baby, imagining this scene in seven months when their own child would be nearly this age. A soft smile spread over his lips as he quietly said, "Bones…"

"That's good, you two. Pick up my baby so I can't yell at you."

Brennan's head lifted as she offered a zoology lesson to her friend. "The custom of holding another's child for protection is practiced in baboon tribes." This warranted an odd look from Booth. "However, I was not trying to emulate a baboon. The practice is generally ineffective and enacted by aggressive male baboons."

"Whatever it is, it worked." Angela sighed. As much as she wanted to yell at these two for being such blind idiots, the sight of the two of them with her son… She could not be angry with them. They were happy and perfect for each other. "I've gotta say, I am thrilled you two have finally consummated this relationship. But could you two not just be normal? For one moment of your crazy, twisted relationship, could you not be normal and do things the way normal people do?"

"I don't know what that means."

Booth grinned at her signature comment. "Of course not." When Brennan and Angela both looked at him strangely, he explained, "We're not normal. We never do anything by the books. We don't make any sense at all." There was a knowing, lingering look shared between the two, and Brennan's smile matched Booth's.

Angela took a moment to take in the scene before her before breaking the mood with the _real_ question of the night, "So you're telling everyone it was artificial insemination?"

The couple's heads turned toward Angela in unison. Booth squirmed.

"Yeah, you should squirm. That's pretty stupid. Whose idea was that, Booth?"

Brennan looked back to her partner. "I find I don't understand her question. If she knows it was you, why specifically ask your name like that?"

Booth also turned away from Angela. "She's being intentionally—"

"Don't shut me out like that! Hey! Guys, you're my friends. I don't want you to do something you regret, and if you can't see how obviously wrong this lie is…"

"It's for the good of the team," explained Booth, "So the FBI doesn't split us up and we can keep the team working together. The center must hold." Brennan nodded in agreement to this last sentence.

There was a short knock on the door. The trio turned in unison and watched as the door opened to Hodgins. He was pale and his blue eyes were wide, staring at Brennan with a mixture of surprise and shock. As the trio stared at him, Hodgins lifted a hand holding the baby monitor. A little voice emerged from his throat, "You're pregnant?"

Hodgins watched the scene unfold before him. The mouths of his wife, Brennan, and Booth all dropped at the same time. When they said nothing, Hodgins knew what he had overheard was correct. A smile slowly spread across his entire face. "Congrats, Dr. B! Congrats, Booth!" He approached Brennan and gave her a gentle side-hug, as she was still holding Michael.

Within moments, Brennan was beaming. "Thank you, Hodgins." She saw Booth out of the corner of her eye, and he was beaming, too. They may not have intended to share the news with Hodgins just yet, but the joy of the moment overtook all four of them.


	9. Serialized

Booth's head was down, staring at the orange Flyers stress ball laced in his fingers. That black dot in the middle of the logo stared him down as if questioning his unproductivity of late. Their current case was not going well.

"Are you ready to go over the profile, Agent Booth?" A familiar face topped in dark hair poked into Booth's office without knocking.

'_No.' _"Yeah, sure, sit down, Sweets." Booth stashed the stress ball in one of his desk drawers, hoping Sweets hadn't seen him looking at it. There was no telling what crazy conclusions Sweets would draw from Booth's silent stress ball contemplation.

"What was that?" Sweets asked as he made himself comfortable across from Booth.

"Sweets," Booth slapped the table, staring the young psychologist in the eye. "Focus. Profile."

"Oh, okay, all right, Agent Booth." Sweets flipped through the file he brought in with him and set it open to a particular page in front of Booth. "Assuming the female DNA Dr. Brennan found at the crime scene is that of the killer – and I would have surmised the killer would be female without said DNA – I catered the profile to match that fact. I believe you're looking for a young-ish woman, probably in her twenties, whose mother left her at a young age, which manifested into her inability to connect with her feminine side. She harbors rage at older women in general, specifically those she sees as maternal in nature, but I don't think she acts without being antagonized. There was a seed of resentment planted previously. A lack of similar murders would suggest she is not a serial killer. However, the crime was dispassionate and planned, which indicates that she is of above average intelligence and likely a logical thinker."

Booth heard nothing of what Sweets said past the second sentence. He could not get past the idea that the killer was on some kind of vendetta against maternal women who were older than herself. His mind leapt from there to Brennan without difficulty. As he looked away from Sweets, a tightening in his chest betrayed his primal fear reaction. This case was going badly enough as it was. Could Brennan be in danger, as well?

"Agent Booth?" Booth snapped back to reality. Sweets' tone suggested it was not the first time he had called Booth's name.

"You said she… kills older women?"

"Yes." He paused expectantly, then, "Agent Booth?"

Booth said nothing. He would not voice his worries aloud to Sweets, especially amid current circumstances.

"Are you worried about Dr. Brennan?"

"No, Sweets, I'm worried about every other woman in the world that fits that description." Booth intended the comment to sound sincere – and he was sincere; he did worry for other possible victims – but his unintended moderately sarcastic tone divulged his true concerns.

Sweets smiled a knowing smile as he leaned forward onto Booth's desk. "Agent Booth, I assure you, Dr. Brennan is in no danger. The likelihood this is a serial killer we're dealing with seems doubtful at this point, unless we find additional comparable remains. I also believe the killer may have known the victim." Sweets laughed, "Plus, it's not like Dr. Brennan fits the 'maternal' psyche."

Booth felt his shoulders stiffen and his brow furrow unconsciously. When he realized that Sweets was watching and analyzing his every move, he quickly relaxed again and half-stuttered, "No. No, she, she… she doesn't, does she?"

In truth, Booth thought Brennan looked more maternal each day. There were physical changes, of course. Booth was keenly aware of Brennan's fuller breasts, but, much to his dismay, he could not yet see any difference in her belly (although Brennan had informed him nearly a week ago that her pants were fitting tighter). She looked as beautiful as ever to him, so Booth noticed little of the purported "glow." No, Booth measured Brennan's maternity by her emotional changes. Aside from bursting into tears at least once a week, she was gentler of late. Was it possible to handle her bones more gently? She did. _'Why can't he see it?'_

Sweets broke his reverie. "No… Agent Booth, is everything going okay between you two?"

"Yeah, of course. Bones and I are great partners," Booth stated, thinking quickly. When Sweets did not appear satisfied with this response, he added, "We've solved two cases in less than a week. Just because this one's taking longer doesn't mean we're slipping."

"I was actually referring to your personal relationship."

His response was immediate: "I'm not discussing my personal life with a twelve year old."

"Agent Booth, I'm just worried about the fact that you two –"

"I told you not to bring up therapy again!"

"I wasn't going there, actually…" Sweets raised an eyebrow into a suspicious countenance.

Now Booth was on the defensive. He crossed his arms. When Sweets did not continue, Booth spoke, "You have something else to say?"

"Uhm… yeah. I couldn't help but notice your past three cases have been, well, mild in nature. The construction site bones, those bones found by that kid out in Idylwood, the already half-solved case where that young woman was missing an arm, and now this, and while the body was found in a hairier condition, the situation is still domestic in nature and… I asked Agent Hacker."

"You went to Hacker?" He slammed his palms onto his desk, staring Sweets in the eye and speaking in an aggressive tone. "Are you even allowed to talk to Hacker? He's not your boss."

"I'm an FBI psychologist, Agent Booth! I can talk to anyone in the FBI if I want, and inquire about my patients' cases if it is relevant to their psychological evaluation. He said you specifically requested safer cases. I can only conclude you two shared some kind of disagreement."

Booth ruminated upon the idea. Technically, he and Brennan _had_ had a disagreement. They continued to have disagreements. In fact, there was, in any one moment, always something upon which they disagreed. Thus, he nodded and, without the remorse that comes from telling a lie, affirmed, "Yes, we had a disagreement."

"Oh?" Sweets' mouth opened and his eyes widened as they always upon being intrigued.

"You know, Sweets, I don't have to tell you any of this. We're not in a session. This is just a friend-to-friend chat, and you crossed the boundary a long time ago." Sweets' expression melted to crestfallen, but then lit up again as he was about to ask yet another (invasive) question. Booth cut him off with a raised hand and began, "However, I can tell you this, as a friend. You will find out soon enough _exactly_ why I requested safer cases. There. Is that enough gossip to satisfy you for a few weeks?"

Sweets looked about as if he expected to find a hidden camera. "You promise? You're not jerking my chain, right?"

"I promise. You will know soon enough." Then, before Sweets could pry any further, Booth excused him with a gesture to the profile on his desk and a simple, "Thank you."

"No, thank you." Sweets pushed himself out of his seat, appearing oddly pleased with himself. He glanced back to Booth one additional time as he exited the office, then disappeared from Booth's view.

Booth was concerned. Had he given it away? No, he told himself. For a psychologist, Sweets was terrible at reading his friends. He hadn't become perceptive overnight. Sweets _thought_ Booth had given him priceless information, which was all for the better. Maybe Sweets would dwell on that for the next few weeks, until he and Brennan decided to inform the FBI.

He snatched the profile from his desk, flipping to the front page where a crime scene photo had been paper clipped to the top left corner. The body had been intentionally defeminized: long hair snipped, fake nails removed, breasts sliced.

He closed the file. _'She's fine. The whole thing is just Sweets' opinion. He can't even tell Bones and I are together. What does he know?'_

But Booth worried. Even though Brennan worked safely in her lab while he went into the field, he worried. When, a week later, there still were no leads to the case and it was thrust to the back burner in pursuit of fresher leads, he worried even more.


	10. Fried Rice?

Author's Notes:

I apologize for this being so late. I have a lot going on right now. Updates are likely going to stay sparse for a couple weeks, until mid-July. Then I should be able to update just about every day!

I'm getting questions/comments about how long I intend to take this, and I WILL go all the way to the birth. Potentially a little longer, depending upon how I feel when I get there. 

* * *

><p>Brennan ran her fingers along the victim's femur. The peculiar etched texture perplexed her. Of all the bones, this was the only one to exhibit this quality, and she had no idea what it meant. They had ID and cause of death, but they had as of yet been unable to determine the killer. She knew that if only she could extract the information this femur withheld, maybe they would be able to solve the murder. Her fingers caught in the notch of the lower extremity. Everything seemed normal, aside from the texture, but there was something, ever so slightly out of her grasp. She could feel it as she waited for the bone to, as Angela termed, "speak" to her.<p>

However, it was getting late. Brennan was tired, verging on exhausted. Normally, working late on a Friday evening would be nothing, but tonight, in comparison to normal productivity, she might as well have been brain dead. She continued rolling the femur about in her hands, making no additional observations, no additional conclusions. There was something else there, but her mind was clouded with exhaustion and hunger and a twinge of nausea she had worked very hard to avoid by eating every three hours.

The femur stopped turning. She felt it relinquished from her grasp. Brennan wondered what was happening and realized with a start that her eyes were closed. Had she fallen asleep? How long had she been here? She opened them to see Booth sliding the femur back onto the examination table.

"No, I… I almost had it." Brennan stuttered in her half-woken state. She felt a pair of large hands lift her own and remove her gloves. Next, he was behind her, arms under her own, unbuttoning her labcoat. "Booth, I can—"

"You've really got to start answering your phone. I mean, I was worried. I called Angela, who talked to Hodgins, who said you were still here when he left."

"I am sorry." She decided she liked the feeling of his hands unbuttoning her coat enough to not worry about what any late-night lab lurkers might think. He lingered perhaps a second longer than necessary on the buttons nearest her navel, then the coat was unbuttoned and he gently slipped her arms out of it.

He took her hand. "Time to go home, Temperance." With that, Brennan felt his other arm wrap around her, just beneath her arms, guiding her out of the room.

"I'm hungry."

"I've got Thai food in the car." 

* * *

><p>Booth handed her a carton of fried rice and a fork as soon as she got into the SUV. He took her admission of her hunger to indicate a fierce need to eat – Brennan didn't complain, extreme circumstances excepting. Even more worrisome, she was looking a little pale. "Eat this. Now. You don't look good."<p>

He was pleased, upon getting into the driver's side seat, to see her sticking a forkful of rice into her mouth. As he turned the key in the ignition, "How long has it been since you last ate?"

"I… don't know," she said between bites, "I think I lost track of time. I had a snack at two?"

He glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. Seven fifteen. "You told me you were eating something every three hours."

"I lost track of time."

"You need to be more careful."

She was silent. Booth heard her fork scratch the side of the carton as he exited the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Where do you want to go?"

"You said we were going home."

"We are."

"Mine or yours?"

Oh, how Booth wished he could have replied "ours." "Wherever you want to go, Bones. We can both spend the night at yours, or at mine, or I can drop you off at yours with some of this food. Totally up to you."

"Yours." The response was immediate. Booth liked that. 

* * *

><p>Brennan's pallor and energy improved dramatically after eating, Booth was relieved to find. Naturally, he would have carried her up to his apartment in a heartbeat, but the toll on his back would have been steep. Her steps as they made their way from the SUV were slower than usual, but her eyes were alert and her grip on his arm reassuringly tight.<p>

Now in his home, Brennan took a bathroom break while Booth surrendered the Thai food to his coffee table and plopped himself on his couch. He reached into the bag, pulled out mi krop for himself, the tofu phat thai for Brennan, and the eggrolls for both of them. As he took a huge bite out of one of the eggrolls, Brennan emerged from the bathroom.

She looked significantly better. She appeared to have washed her face and taken her makeup off. Her hair was down, shoes and jacket discarded somewhere, revealing a low-cut red tee, black slacks, and cute little socked feet. Booth loved how comfortable she was in his home. He patted the couch beside him. "C'mon, I got you phat thai." He smiled as she sat next to him, practically on top of him, grabbed the container before her, propped her socked feet up on his coffee table, leaned back, and dug in.

They shared a few minutes of silent dining before Brennan inexplicably placed her carton on the coffee table, groaned, and rolled onto Booth's lap. Her head hung over his thigh by a few inches, so she pulled one of his cushions to rest underneath her.

"What, Bones?" Booth began with a grin. "You want some of my mi krop?" Before she could answer, Booth had a forkful of noodles in her mouth.

She swallowed. "Mmm, no, not really."

"Oh. What about more fried rice?" He reached into the bag to retrieve the final carton, only to find that the bag fell over due to lack of weight keeping it upright. He retrieved the carton, which was empty. "You ate the entire carton on the way here?" He asked in disbelief. This was a pretty big carton. They usually fought over the stuff, so he always bought extra.

Brennan just smiled and brought arms up so that her hands rested under her head, causing the hem of her red t-shirt to inch up her belly.

Booth's eye caught the flash of pale skin and he playfully rubbed his hand against it. "You must be extra full." He went to tug on the upper hem of the slacks but quickly realized he couldn't even get his finger between the waistband and her skin. His brow furrowed in concern. "Bones, can you breathe?"

"Of course I can breathe. My pants stop well below the level of my diaphragm."

"Can the baby breathe?"

"It is only a fetus, Booth, and no, of course it can't breathe. My body is currently supplying the fetus with all the nutrients it requires to develop. It has no need to breathe on its own when I breathe for it."

Booth shook his head at her literal interpretation. "I don't think you should wear pants this tight." He squeezed the top button of her slacks, feeling her muscles tighten as she winced, and undid them. As the button gave way, her belly pushed outward to unzip the zipper halfway down the rise. Booth ran a concerned finger along the red line left by the upper hem.

"Booth, I have gained four pounds. Consequently, my pants do not fit as comfortably as they once did. I will soon have to purchase looser clothing."

Booth wasn't really listening. He laid his hand over the slight bulge just beneath her navel. "Bones…" he began, somewhat in disbelief, aware that his voice was nearly a whisper, "I think you're showing."

Brennan unzipped her pants all the way and placed her hand atop Booth's. "That's just fat." She slid their hands an inch or so lower. "My uterus is actually right here."

Booth smiled, the tips of his mouth twitching. He didn't care how Brennan dismissed his assertion: she was showing. Maybe he had to look extra-hard to find it, but now that he knew this little bump existed, the miracle seemed more concrete than ever. He looked to her face now, resting on his pillow, brown hair splayed about, framing her angular features. There was a rosiness in her cheeks and a toothless grin on her lips. Her eyes sparkled a particularly bright shade of blue, the yellow around her inner irises having nearly disappeared into dilated pupils. She was glowing. She was happy.

"You're beautiful." Their lips met, and Booth took the opportunity to prove just how beautiful she was.


	11. In Black and White

As of that morning, Booth planned to attend Brennan's second prenatal appointment. This marked two important milestones: the beginning of her second trimester and her first ultrasound. Brennan had neglected to inform him of her first prenatal, but had invited him along to this one. He would meet her at the obstetrician's at four o'clock.

This was all before Caroline decided to ruin Booth's day. Could she have picked a different time to call an "emergency" meeting? Booth had tried to talk his way out of it, but he and Bones weren't on a case and Caroline ('_Curse Microsoft Outlook!') _had access to his schedule and knew he had nothing work-related scheduled for the afternoon.

"Booth, unless you can give me one heck of a reason for not attending, I want you in the conference room at three forty-five sharp."

With that, she had turned tail, leaving Booth stirring his mid-morning coffee, lip in a pout as he contemplated the terrible injustice the matter. He did have "one heck of a reason," but he couldn't tell her.

So, that was how Booth came to be in the conference room at four ten instead of with Bones in the waiting room for her prenatal. No, he was stuck here, listening to Caroline, Agent Shaw, and Agent Yoder spar verbally about the case Shaw and Yoder were currently working on. Yoder was a young, blonde-haired man in his early thirties with impulsive tendencies that severely irked Booth. He'd been placed with Agent Shaw, and it bothered Booth that the rookie female agent might be getting the wrong kind of influence from Yoder.

"I have done nothing but follow protocol!" Yoder stood in his position, staring across the table at Caroline, who sat coolly with her fingers laced on the table.

"Agent Yoder, I assure you, if you and Agent Shaw were properly following protocol, you would not be here! How many times do I have to tell you, you do not, under any circumstances, enter a crime scene without a warrant! You, of all people, should know that…"

As Caroline continued chewing the duo out, Booth could only conclude he had been called here as a witness, or possibly to make sure Caroline didn't kill them. _'I'll protect Shaw, but I'm not making any promises for Yoder,' _he mused.

Booth's phone vibrated. He felt like a high schooler as he pulled it from his pocket and did his best to hide the phone under the conference table. It was from Brennan:

'_I'm going back. I'll let you know when I'm done.'_

He texted back: _'Say hi to the baby for me!'_ smiling as he punched the keys. He obviously wasn't very good at this texting under the table activity, as when he looked up, there were three pairs of eyes boring holes in his head.

"Cherie, text your little girlfriend on your own time."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Mmhmm." Caroline motioned for him to put his phone up, then went back to scolding.

His phone vibrated again just as he was about to slip it back into his pocket. Again, from Brennan: _'Fetus, Booth.'_Booth smiled and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

* * *

><p>Brennan's appointment went well. She listed symptoms she was currently experiencing and was assured they were all normal. Her weight gain was well within typical parameters. Naturally, she had educated herself sufficiently enough in the weeks prior to know she was seeing only customary changes in her body, but the words held more merit coming from the mouth of her trusted OB-GYN, Dr. Ortego. The woman was conceivably a few years older than Brennan, dark skinned and haired, with three children of her own.<p>

Perhaps the most worrisome question on Brennan's mind was the normalcy of her lack of morning sickness. Yes, she had done everything within her power to prevent the onslaught of nausea, and while objectively she knew a significant percentage of women never experienced morning sickness, she had read numerous articles suggesting the lack thereof increased chances of birth defects and miscarriages. Thankfully, Dr. Ortego offered completely uplifting news and cited research suggesting otherwise. As a rational being, the mathematics were all Brennan needed to quell her fears.

However, Brennan's rational side did not serve its primary purpose the entire appointment. The ultrasound brought tears to her eyes, despite her best attempts to hold them back. The tears would have been bad enough, had she been able to pinpoint the reason for their appearance on her face. She would have loved to have been able to definitively voice to herself, _'I am crying because I am sad,'_ or, _'I am crying for joy,'_ or even, _'I am crying because Booth is unable to be here with me and I am alone.'_

Unfortunately, Brennan could tell herself none of these things definitively. She recognized joy in the swelling sensation deep within her chest. She rationally knew that she wanted Booth there, especially since she had lacked the foresight to invite him to her first appointment and consequently felt guilty. Some of this was guilt that Booth could not be there; a lost look in her widened eyes betrayed a twinge of loneliness and even sadness at his lack of presence.

Fear, however… Brennan recognized the fear acutely, and that very recognition scared her even more. That little figure, oddly shaped, more head than anything else, but very obviously humanoid, made her fearful in a way she had never before experienced. She had been imprisoned, buried alive, shot a man, betrayed. She had seen a friend die before her eyes and believed she held Booth as he passed the point of no return. She had been in countless dangerous situations, and yet this, this tiny being inside of her, so small on that screen until the technician zoomed, introduced more raw fear to her awareness than any other time in her memory.

She vaguely remembered the tech telling her everything looked standard for this stage in development, then gently helping to clean the gel off her belly, and her sudden, irrational self-consciousness in the fact that this minute bulge was exposed for the world to see. She was faintly aware of her OB-GYN's wide, white smile and words of comfort that she was doing everything right, scheduling her next appointment, being handed her fetus's first picture, stuffing it into her bag as she exited the hospital.

She thought only one thought as she slid into the car, threw her bag onto the passenger's seat, and began her drive. _'I need Booth.'_

That thought scared her, too.

* * *

><p>Booth stared at the wood grain of the conference table, hoping Brennan would text him again. He wanted to be with her; he couldn't get his mind off her. Thoughts so consumed him he didn't notice when the door to the conference room opened, nor did he notice when Caroline stopped griping to look up at the entrant.<p>

The next thing he knew, a hand rested on his shoulder. A familiar hand, a familiar presence. Booth knew that hand without looking by the ocean breeze scent of the hand lotion and the feeling he got when its owner touched him.

"Can I help you, Dr. Brennan?" Caroline beat Booth to it. He looked behind him as she lifted her hand from his shoulder. There was something in her face that did not bode well: her eyes were a little too wide, pupils too small, mouth too tight.

"I need Booth."

He was standing before she even finished the short sentence, a concern in his brow and jawline, mouth slightly agape in a question not vocalized.

"Okay." Caroline must have seen something in Brennan's face or heard something in her voice, because she did not put up a fight. "You two take care?"

The next thing Booth knew, he was leading Brennan to his office. He guided her with a hand on the small of her back, feeling tension in that light touch. He wanted nothing more than to turn to her in that instant and embrace her. She had just come from her appointment and he knew something was wrong. After what seemed like the longest thirty steps from the conference room to his office of his life, he shut the door behind them, locked it, and flicked the blinds to give them privacy.

He turned to Brennan. She was just standing there, one arm across her chest, holding her other arm. She stared into the space above his shoulder, eyes lost and with a hint of red betraying the recent fall of tears. It was a pitiful sight. He was reminded of how vulnerable she looked when she had entered his bedroom nearly three months ago. The loose grey blouse she wore today only heightened the comparison.

"Bones, what's wrong?" She didn't answer, but did look him in the eye. "Bones, is the baby okay? Are you okay?"

Her shoulders relaxed. "Yes, we…" there was a pause, "we are fine."

Booth couldn't help but feel some significance in her word choice. We? Had she ever referred to herself and the baby as a we? There was a momentary pause before she spoke again.

"I'm scared, Booth."

"Why?"

She broke eye contact to dig through her bag, pulled out a black and white image, and handed it to Booth. He knew what was coming, but that knowledge did nothing to prepare him for what was to follow. His eyes softened, lips went limp. He ran a finger along the simple image, and although he knew little about what all of it meant, he did know what that little baby-shaped outline was. He was shocked by the semblance to a child even at this early stage, when the changes in her abdomen were not yet noticeable to the world.

Booth didn't notice Brennan's hand on his cheek until her fingertips caressed his light stubble. He set the picture down on top of the nearby file cabinet and once again focused his attention on the woman before him. Her hand did not leave his jawline as he embraced her, rubbing her back and gently squeezing her arms.

"Bones," he sighed. "This is the most gorgeous picture I've ever seen. Please tell me why you're scared. Please tell me why you're scared when everything is fine."

"Booth, it's because I saw it. I am not rational. I cannot quantify or qualify my emotional response. I have felt such an odd conglomerate of emotions…" there was a pause and a sniffle. "I am afraid."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm having a baby, Booth."

Booth was glad his head currently leaned over her shoulder and she could not see how hard he fought back the urge to smile. The confession was so obvious to him, but he remembered. He had gone to the doctor with Rebecca a few times when she was pregnant with Parker. He remembered how affected he had been the first time he saw the ultrasound moving, how his heart had swelled up in his chest. And, although the happy memories were largely what his mind had chosen to remember of the experience, he remembered the fear. He remembered the fear that he would soon be responsible for the life of this small human.

He remembered how afraid he was, knowing that he and Rebecca were on rocky ground. He was scared of what his life would be like without her, of the reality that, since she had rejected his marriage proposal, he would not be directly involved in the life of this child. He feared for himself, and he feared for the lifestyle Rebecca would soon adopt as a single parent, the lifestyle he could have remedied if only he'd been able to fix their relationship.

Booth had the memories. He knew that Brennan's obvious statement concealed a deeper meaning. There was one thing and one thing only she needed to hear from him right now.

"I'm not leaving you, Bones."

He knew by the way she tightened her grip around his neck and pressed her body even closer that he had said exactly the right thing.


	12. The 4th

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the huge delay! This was originally intended to be posted last Monday. That obviously didn't happen.

This chapter has been beta'ed. Special thanks, you know who you are! (;

* * *

><p>It was a glorious day to celebrate the birth of their country. The sun shone bright in the mid-afternoon sky. Booth and Parker played around in the pool at Brennan's apartment complex, alternating between games of Marco Polo and diving between each other's legs. Brennan, meanwhile, lazed on a nearby reclining lawn chair, wearing sunglasses and wide-brimmed thatched sunhat as she read a historically accurate novel on the Mayan civilization.<p>

There were two other families at the pool: a middle-aged woman with her two elementary-aged children and a young couple whose affections for each other placed them in the newlywed category. The two children dove into the deep end while their mother watched, occasionally yelling, "Be careful!" The company, as a whole, was sharing the space pleasantly.

"I'm getting out for a bit, Parks. Why don't you introduce yourself to those kids? The girl looks about your age."

"Aww, dad…"

"I'll get back in in a bit. I just want to check on Bones."

Parker's eyes flicked to Brennan, who had yet to enter the pool. Parker had already asked Brennan at least five times why she didn't get in with them, to the point that Booth was beginning to worry as well. "Okay. Can you make her get in?"

"I can't make her do anything, Parker." Booth winked at his son. "But I'll sure try." He climbed out of the pool and made his way to Brennan, pulling up a nearby lounge chair so that his touched her own. "Bones?"

"Hmm?" She looked at him as if she had not noticed his approach and set the book in her lap.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Just a little light reading on the Mayan civilization. Did you know that although the Mayans were originally believed to have had the first writing system in the Mesoamerica, recent discoveries indicate they were actually predated by at least two other civilizations: the Zapotecs and the Olmecs?"

"Fascinating." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but of course, Brennan didn't catch it.

"Yes, isn't it? The modern view seems to suggest –"

"Bones, why aren't you getting in the pool?"

Her eyes shifted away from him like they always did when she lied. "I… don't want to."

"Why did you put your swimsuit on, then?" He lifted a hand beneath her chin to bring her face level with his own. "To humor me?"

"Humor you? What about me in my swimsuit is funny?" She looked genuinely hurt and perhaps a bit insecure as she stiffened her shoulders and sat up straighter in the chair.

"It's an expression. I've seen you in a swimsuit before, Bones. You looked great. You still look great," he said, moving his hand from her chin to squeeze her arm reassuringly.

"My body is changing, Booth." She absently moved the hand he was not holding over her abdomen.

Booth found the simplicity of her statement and her fingertips stroking her belly endearing. Was she truly concerned people would be able to tell? Brennan had never struck him as the body-conscious type, and nothing that had happened between them the past three months had suggested otherwise. "I am loving those changes." Brennan's face softened, but the crinkle lines of worry did not. Booth continued, "No one here is gonna be able to tell you're pregnant."

"That's really not what I'm talking about." She looked downward at her swollen chest and Booth's gaze followed. "My cleavage in this swimsuit is indecent. I have not yet purchased one to accommodate my larger cup size." A white tank top and black mesh shorts hid her bathing suit, but the hint of a beige one-piece could be discerned at her back where her tank top did not quite meet the elastic band of her shorts.

Booth could not help but smile at the idea. "Just leave your tank top on. It can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Well, I'll like it."

"Booth, you see me without a swimsuit," she stared at him pointedly. "I do not feel comfortable exposing so much skin to Parker."

"C'mon, Bones, like he's gonna care—"

"He may not care, but he will notice. He's more observant than you think. For example, he's watching us right now." Brennan paused, smiled, and waved at Parker, who was standing near the boy and girl in the shallow end, but seemed to be continually casting glances their direction.

Booth also turned and waved, but also made a shooing motion with one hand, indicating that Parker should get back to playing with the other children instead of snooping.

"He is bound to notice our altered relationship soon, if he hasn't noticed already."

"What? How could he have noticed?"

"You brought him up to my apartment. You've never done that before. One of your t-shirts was on the couch. You embraced me in greeting. You held my hand on the way down. You pulled your chair very close to me. You—"

"Okay, I get the point." Booth flopped back onto his reclining chair with a sigh. "What are we gonna tell him?"

"The truth, obviously."

For being a genius, Brennan sure did see everything simply. "It's not that easy, Bones."

"I do not understand why the truth is not the easy way."

"It's because…" Booth sat up in his chair again and leaned toward her, speaking now in almost a whisper, "What if he tells someone, Bones? I thought we were keeping this a secret?"

"To our co-workers. To the FBI. Parker is your son, Booth."

"What if he tells Sweets?"

"When do you anticipate him talking to Sweets? He hardly even sees you, Booth!"

There was a sharp intake of breath on both sides. Brennan looked down for a split second, as if recognizing her words had perhaps gone a bit too far.

Booth wanted to yell. He wanted to set her straight, leave, and get back into the pool with his son that he hardly ever saw. It wasn't his fault he hardly ever saw Parker, and Brennan knew that.

"I'm sorry," Brennan's usually strong, loud voice was nearly a whisper.

That voice killed him. Where at one point, he may have left her to deal with her own harsh comments, today, their relationship was different. "It's okay, Bones. I know you didn't mean it."

There was a continued pause before Brennan looked back up at him, her eyes betraying a hint of uncertainty, lips tight as she asked, "Are you going to lie to our child?"

"No…" _'Was that a rhetorical question? Does she even know what those are?'_

"Then don't lie to Parker. He is an intelligent, good-natured child. He will keep the secret if you ask." She flopped back into her chair and, as if the matter was settled, retrieved the book from her lap and lifted it close to her eyes.

_'Why am I the one worried about this?'_ Booth couldn't help but ask himself. Of course he wanted to share the news with Parker, and the sooner the better. He knew his son may not be entirely receptive to the idea of a younger sibling. However Booth's own uncertainties, Parker was a good kid. He would be able to keep the secret. Somewhere deep down, Booth knew that. He knew it was his parenting gene getting in the way, wanting to ensure his child's protection by denying knowledge and thereby potential hurt. Booth knew Parker wouldn't be unhappy that his father and Brennan were finally together. Parker had expressed desire for Brennan to be Booth's girlfriend on more than one occasion. No, the primary cause of concern was the pregnancy. Booth had no idea how Parker would react. He could only imagine there would be jealousy or anger.

Maybe Booth was trying to spare himself and not Parker at all.

* * *

><p>There was something funny going on.<p>

Parker had noticed from almost the moment they arrived at the apartment complex. It began when his father started up the stairs.

"The pool's that way, dad."

"No, we're stopping by to get Bones first. You'll like her place."

The thought of seeing Brennan's apartment excited Parker. He could not help but equate Brennan's coolness to the conclusion that her apartment would be equally cool.

After Booth's knock, the door was opened by a smiling Brennan in summer clothes and flip flops. His father immediately hugged Brennan, which Parker found odd. She gave Parker a quick hug as well, then, as she backed away from her door, said, "Give me just a moment. I need to get my bag."

Parker couldn't see much of the apartment, but what he could see looked like a museum. A really interesting museum without tons of cards to read. "Can I look around?"

"Sure," Brennan said over her shoulder.

"Don't touch anything sharp, Parker."

Parker bounded off directly to a peculiar sculpture, roughly five inches in height, with a carved clay creature appearing to be a monkey attached to a cylindrical structure. "What's this, Bones?" He reached a hand toward it, but did not touch. Would his father think it was sharp?

He heard Brennan's voice from somewhere behind him, slightly muffled as if she was facing the other direction. "A ritualistic pottery made by the Moche civilization of ancient northern Peru. You can touch it."

Parker hesitantly placed a single finger on the monkey's forehead. It was cool to the touch, but much smoother than he had expected. This was awesome; he didn't get to touch things at a museum. "How ancient?"

"They flourished between 200 BC and 700 AD."

Still fixated on the piece, "What happened to 'em?"

There was a brief pause here before Brennan answered, her voice no longer muffled, "They crumbled inward due to political unrest as individual factions fought for scarce resources."

"Like Rome, right?" Booth butted in.

"No, not at all, Booth. While political unrest did weaken Rome, its ultimate decline was due to invasion. The Moche experienced no such invasion. Their decline was due entirely to their own shortcomings."

Parker turned around to see his father staring at Brennan, his eyebrows indicating confusion. Brennan simply smiled and shook her head, and, with bag now over her shoulder, made her way to the door.

"You ready, Parker?" His dad asked.

Parker nodded and the trio made their way down the elevator toward the pool. He caught sight of his father and Brennan's hands together, although Brennan tore hers away after a moment. A question formed on his lips, but he said nothing as Brennan began an onslaught of questions on what he was studying in school. She used the perhaps two minute walk to briefly quiz him about atoms. While Parker enjoyed school as much as a child could be expected, when Brennan talked, she made everything more exciting than his teachers. Brennan was so smart, and Parker found himself wanting to impress her.

Once at the pool, the excited ten-year-old stripped his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and was about to do a running cannonball into the pool when Brennan interrupted him.

"Don't run, Parker. The concrete's coefficient of static friction decreases dramatically when wet."

Parker turned around. "What does that mean?"

"She means it gets slippery."

"I just said that, Booth."

So, naturally, Parker walked, although he still had no idea what a coefficient of static friction was.

Parker was an intelligent child. As he and his father played around in the pool with Brennan watching, he caught the occasional peculiar looks his father shot her way. There was something odd about the way Brennan smiled back at him. In fact, there was something odd about Brennan. The way she smiled way more often than normal, and the way she and his father kept looking at each other like they were hiding something. Parker's closest comparison was to girls in his class shyly concealing a secret, but there was something else, too. He felt like he knew what it was, if he could only make the connection.

When his father got out to talk to Brennan, Parker did introduce himself to the boy and girl, but made little motion to play with them. Instead, he looked at the grownups every chance he could. Yep, something was definitely going on. He ignored his dad's hand motion for him to go back to playing and climbed out of the pool.

"Dad? Is Bones your girlfriend?"

* * *

><p>Booth's jaw dropped. He had no idea what to say. Were they really that obvious? Did Brennan know his own son better than he did? How did that happen?<p>

"Yes," Brennan stated simply.

_'Huh? When did we decide that?'_ His head snapped from watching his son to Brennan's completely calm demeanor. She turned to face him, a little smirk playing its way onto her lips. Giddy momentarily overrode his hesitation associated with Parker's revelation.

"Awesome!" Parker grinned. "So you two like… kiss and stuff?"

"Yes," Brennan confirmed.

Parker's voice quieted by a few decibels, "Do you have… _sex_?" He tried, but was unable to abate the smile forming.

"Yes," she said again.

"Parker! Bones! Whoa!" As Brennan and Parker looked at him, both with facial expressions indicating they perceived absolutely nothing amiss in the revelation - although Parker was still grinning. "Where did you even learn that word?"

"There is nothing wrong with us having sex, Booth. Well, aside from your religious ties." She explained, gesturing towards her partner.

"Bones, are you pregnant?"

Now it was Brennan's turn to be speechless. She looked hesitantly at Booth, who slid his fingers into hers for support. Brennan suggested Parker was perceptive, and while discernment of their changed relationship surprised him, the idea that his son was aware enough to discern Brennan's pregnancy was completely unexpected. Booth looked from her to Parker a few times before asking, in the most neutral, non-leading tone he could muster, "What makes you ask that?"

Parker shrugged a little and looked down, disconnecting eye contact with Booth and Brennan. "I mean if you're having sex, it happens, right?"

"Where'd you learn that, Parker?" Booth questioned in an even tone. While he found this whole situation unsettling, he had no desire to scold his son; he wished only to ascertain his son's baseline knowledge on the subject.

"Am I in trouble?"

Booth's tone softened, "Of course not."

Parker bit his lower lip as he looked up again. "Jordan told me his mom and dad have sex, and that's how his mom got pregnant. I had a sleepover with him a few months ago. His mom kept rubbing her stomach. Like Bones is now."

Brennan swallowed and moved her hand away from her belly and onto the armrest. Her lips spread into a thin smile and she scooted to the side of the chair, patting the space next to her thigh in indication for Parker to sit down. He did, and asked again, "Are you pregnant?"

There was a glance exchanged between Booth and Brennan. Booth nodded.

"Yes, Parker. I'm pregnant."

His little eyes darted nervously between Booth and Brennan, settling on his father. "Is it… are you gonna be its dad?"

Booth placed the hand that was not laced in Brennan's onto Parker's knee, conscious of the fact that he was, at the same time, touching the two people in the world who meant the most to him. "Yes, Parker. Bones' baby is part me, part Bones." He hoped Parker wouldn't ask for more clarification.

"I'm part you."

"That you are, Parks." Booth rubbed his hand over his son's leg.

Brennan leaned in close enough that her lips tickled Booth's ear and whispered, "This is highly unscientific, Booth."

Parker hardly noticed. "So it's… my little brother?"

"Or sister. We don't know yet."

Parker looked to his father. "You guys were going to tell me, right?"

Booth nodded. "That's what we were talking about while you were in the pool."

A smile spread quickly over Parker's face, but faded just as quickly. "Are you still gonna spend time with me?"

"Of course, bud! I'll see you as much as I always have. Hopefully more. I would love to see you more." He was careful not to allude that Rebecca was the reason he did not see his son more – she would only retaliate by restricting his visits even further.

"But you'll have a crying baby with you."

"Babies don't cry all the time, Parker. They're pretty cute. You were. Yeah, younger siblings are annoying—" he ignored the look Brennan gave him, "—but, as you get older, you realize they're not half-bad. Plus," he moved his hand to wriggle it through Parker's curly hair, "we'll still have plenty of time, just the two of us."

"So you're not trying to replace me?"

Booth dropped his hand to the back of his son's neck. "Parks, I love you. You're my son. I couldn't love you more if my life depended on it."

Parker seemed satisfied with this. The grin returned to his face and he turned back to Brennan, who beamed back. Parker's gazed drifted downward to her belly. He raised a hand to touch, but stopped short, looked back up, and inquired, "Can I touch it?"

Brennan, still smiling, nodded.

If Booth's heart could have literally melted, it would have. The sight of his son's hand rubbing Brennan's cute little bump was nearly too much to handle. It was more than he could ever have anticipated; the situation turned out better than he could have hoped. Parker seemed genuinely happy. He loved Brennan. Brennan loved him. And while Booth knew he would definitely need to have a little chat about sex with Parker tonight, at least to find out exactly what he knew and what Rebecca had told him, he recognized that now, he could ask Brennan to help him, and that made the impending discussion a lot less scary.

Booth leaned over their armrests and whispered in Brennan's ear, "Thank you." He kissed her cheek.

Brennan responded with a bashful grin. To Parker, she said, "You ready to get back in the pool?"

"Yeah! Will you get in now?"

"Yes." She removed her sunglasses, hat, and tank top (the latter of which Booth highly appreciated). As they walked to the pool, Booth saw Brennan whisper something into Parker's ear. He grinned and nodded. Moments later, they jumped simultaneously, arms wrapped around their tucked knees, and shouted in unison, "CANNONBALL!"

Booth sat in his chair watching and grinning like an idiot.


	13. Intermission

Brennan felt the SUV beneath her stop vibrating as Booth cranked the key into the off position. She gathered her things from where she'd placed them on the floor of the vehicle, stacking the file folders neatly in her lap and throwing her bag over her shoulder.

"Bones."

A hand settled upon her forearm. She stopped her motion and looked to her left, into the warm brown eyes of her partner. His expression serious, he conferred, "Thank you for last night."

"You know I'll make love with you anytime, Booth." Her own expression matched his.

Booth smiled, eyes twinkling at Brennan's admission. "While I greatly enjoyed _making love_ with you," he moderately emphasized "making love" as if pleased with her word choice, "I was actually talking about the conversation we had with Parker, before we took him home. I couldn't have done that without you."

"Oh, well, that wasn't difficult, Booth. We didn't even tell him anything about sex. But if, in the future, you need help with that particular subject, I would be more than willing to help."

"Something tells me Rebecca wouldn't like that too much."

"Probably not." There was a pause, which Brennan broke as she began pulling the files into her arm in preparation to leave the vehicle. "I should be going. I'm going to be late. It's Angela's first day back and I would like to make sure she has everything she needs."

"Of course." Booth looked disappointed as Brennan reached for the door handle. "Do you need help with all that? I can carry it up for you."

"No, no, I've got it. I'll be going, then." She looked down at his hand, which was still grasping her forearm.

"Be careful." He squeezed her arm before relinquishing his grip.

"I'm always careful, Booth. It's you I worry about." She smiled a grim little smile as she pushed the door open and settled her booted feet onto the pavement of the Jeffersonian's parking garage.

"Say hi to Angela for me!"

Brennan turned around to nod and wave before heading off toward the elevator. She heard the SUV's engines fire up and the tires scratch against the pavement as Booth turned away, toward the exit. She tightened her grip around the file folders, which were not heavy, but proved unwieldy as she tried to balance them on her hip. She periodically had to stop to reorient the middle few with her free hand as they randomly slipped to one side or another.

When Brennan finally entered the lab, she was moderately out of breath from the exertion of the long walk. As she traversed to her own office, she noticed that Angela's office was lit from within for the first time in nearly two months. A flutter of excitement tickled her insides a she anticipated the prospect of once again working alongside her best friend on a daily basis.

After depositing the folders on her desk, Brennan crossed the lab to Angela's office, hand sweeping the doorframe, to find her friend sitting at her desk, typing away at the computer, concentrated intently on the screen. Brennan was unsure what Angela would have to work on so early on her first day back. "What are you doing, Ange?"

Angela's gaze did not budge as she spoke. "Oh, you know, just the world's longest list of unopened emails. I swear, people emailed me twice as much as normal while I was gone."

"That is statistically unlikely." As Angela spoke, Brennan made her way into the room and behind her friend to get a better look at the computer screen. A wall of bold, unopened emails cluttered the screen, waiting to be opened, replied to, and filed away. "Couldn't you have answered them at home and prevented this buildup?"

"Oh, God, no, I'm not bringing my work home."

Brennan made a mental note not to allow herself to get behind on emails during her own maternity leave.

Angela suddenly spun about in her computer chair, face lighting up as she laid eyes on Brennan for the first time that morning. "But who cares about all that?" She waved a hand, dismissing the computer screen. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"You saw me Saturday, Angela. You brought Michael over and—"

"I'm being metaphoric, sweetie. I missed you!" She jumped from her chair and pulled Brennan into a tight embrace, which Brennan returned gratefully. Brennan felt a mixture of relief and happiness surge through her at Angela's warming touch.

When they parted a few seconds later, Angela stepped back, holding Brennan at arm's length. "Okay, let me look at you." A smile spread across Angela's face, which Brennan immediately felt herself unconsciously mirror. Angela's eyes dropped to Brennan's belly. "Wow."

Brennan's stance shifted uneasily under her friend's probing gaze. "Can you tell?"

Angela's grin expanded. "Oh, yeah."

Brennan's eyes widened. "Is it that obvious?" She was unsure of her feelings toward this revelation. The prospect was exciting, as it marked the beginning of everyone noticing and the thrill of telling people her good news. Unfortunately, at the same time, there was an air of nervousness and uncertainty, as she was still unsure of her personal inclinations involving not telling certain parties about the true nature of the pregnancy. She had been taking ample precautionary measures against revealing her expanding waistline before informing the rest of the world – which essentially amounted to Cam, the FBI, and Sweets – by wearing her most loose-fitting tops and dresses. Pants, admittedly, had proven an issue, as none of her own would button comfortably and she felt silly trying to keep them on with rubber bands or string. Elasticized jeggings and leggings were comfortable, but hardly work appropriate. She was wearing many skirts and simply not zipping them all the way down the back. Today was such a skirt day, with a grey knee-length skirt and an untucked purple blouse.

"Sweetie, that shirt may be loose, but the material is clinging to your every curve, and you've got a couple extra today. Remind me, how many weeks are you?" As Angela spoke, she cocked her head to the side and gestured with the hand that did not rest on her hip.

"Thirteen and five days."

Angela's eyes widened and eyebrows raised. "Does Cam know yet?"

Brennan moved her arms to her front, left hand clasping her right wrist self-consciously as she avoided Angela's gaze by looking at her feet. "No."

"What are you waiting for?"

Brennan sighed before answering. "It is the artificial insemination story Booth wants to tell Cam and the FBI I am worried about." Brennan's gaze raised from the floor so that she was once again looking at Angela's face. "I find I agree with his objective reasoning in that the lie is the most effective way to ensure as few changes as possible to our working relationship. However, I find I am uneasy about lying to friends. I cannot help but wonder if the potential benefits do in fact outweigh the possibility for disaster."

"Oh, sweetie." Angela grabbed Brennan's hand and led her to the table adjacent to her desk. She pulled a chair out for Brennan, who accepted the gesture gratefully. "This is obviously a sore spot," Angela began as she took the seat next to Brennan.

"I want to agree with Booth and support his decision," she set her elbow atop the table and rested her chin on the corresponding fist. Her eyes traversed up to meet Angela's as she admitted, "But I hate lying."

"I know that, Bren. I love you for your frank and truthfulness." There was a pause where Brennan was aware that Angela was searching her facial expression before she inquired, "Have you talked to Booth about this?"

Brennan shook her head. "I do not wish to pitch the boat."

"It's rock the boat, sweetie, and you won't be. Part of being in a relationship is talking about uncomfortable subjects. You have to work through them together. It's hard – God, it's hard. You should try talking to Hodgins about serious subjects sometimes. He gets all giggly and… You would think a guy who works with bugs all day would be okay with details, but…" Angela finished by shaking her head. "Come to think of it, Booth…"

"Yes, Booth behaves in a similar manner when it comes to sexual or body related subjects."

As Angela smiled at her comment, Brennan felt her own smile return to her face. Conversations like this were why she loved Angela. They could have an entirely serious conversation broaching uncomfortable subjects and Angela would manage to not only provide her with sound advice, but also end the conversation on an upbeat tone. "Thanks, Ange."

"Anytime, Bren. Let me know if you need help talking to him. I'm just a phone call away. I can mediate, if you need me to." The final sentence was stated in a perhaps too eager tone.

Angela's comment reminded Brennan that there was a minor downfall to their friendship: an incredibly nosy Angela. "I do not anticipate that will be necessary, Angela, but I appreciate the offer." She rose from her seated position carefully and made her way to the door. It was not until she had almost left Angela's office that she recalled her secondary reason for visiting this morning. She turned to face her friend, who had by now risen from her chair, "Let me know if you need anything today. I imagine your first day back may prove difficult to adjust." Brennan took a step or two more toward the door, then turned around a final time before leaving, "Also, Booth said to tell you hi."

Brennan left Angela's office. She spent the day contemplating how she would confront Booth later that evening. 

* * *

><p>Brennan and Booth entered Brennan's apartment. Booth shut the door behind them as Brennan dropped her bag and keys on the nearby table. She could not help but smile as she felt Booth's arms wrap around her to unbutton her light blazer. His hands traveled from the buttons to her shoulders, where they gently tugged her sleeves to remove the garment. His hands left her, and she turned around to find him hanging the blazer on her coatrack.<p>

"You want something to drink?" Brennan cordially inquired.

"Yeah, but," Booth turned about to face her, "I've told you, don't treat me like a guest. I'll get it myself."

"But I thought the big hockey game started seven minutes ago."

Booth glanced at the digital clock on Brennan's coffee table. It read 6:07. "Ooh, yeah, it did. I…" He paused, conflicted.

"Don't worry, Booth. It's no problem. Sit down. I'll join you in a few minutes." And with that, Brennan started off to the kitchen.

"Soda, Bones!" Booth called after her.

Brennan put some water on to boil with the intent of making green tea for herself. She could see the living room from her kitchen, so as she waited for the water to heat, she could not help but observe Booth. He had by now taken his shoes off and had the game going at what was, in Brennan's opinion, an unnecessarily loud volume. His feet inched toward her coffee table as if Booth was unsure whether or not it was acceptable for him to put his socked feet on the clean surface.

"Make yourself comfortable, Booth," she called into the living room and was rewarded by a white toothed Boothy smile flashed back her direction and the charming sight of his blue and white striped socks wriggling on her table.

She left the kitchen and traversed to her bedroom to change into sweatpants and remove her boots. A hissing kettle prompted a quick return to the kitchen to begin steeping the tea. By the time it had reached her preferred strength, Brennan had booted up her laptop. On her way to the kitchen to finish her drink, she deposited it on the end table next to the side of the couch Booth was not occupying – which he did not notice through his intense game concentration.

Soon enough, she was handing Booth a coaster and a can of soda, purchased specifically for his consumption. She snuggled into one side of her couch, tucking her knees beneath her and pulling a pillow and her laptop onto her lap. Booth flashed her a little grin in recognition as she began work on her latest novel.

The next fifteen or so minutes were spent in this odd state of tranquility. Brennan could not help but find the domesticity of the scene oddly soothing. Admittedly, the scene itself was by no means tranquil. Booth continuously hooted at the game and called referee judgments foul, not to mention the overall volume of the television set. The peace was an inner one for Brennan, and it showed in an increased poeticism in her writing.

They had spent evenings similarly to this in the past, in one apartment or the other. The current trend was one of alternation: a few nights at Booth's, a few nights at Brennan's, a few nights spent alone here and there in between. They had settled into this routine of sorts in their usual unspoken manner. Brennan found herself enjoying Booth's increased presence even more than she had anticipated. Nights spent alone were lonely, but she would never admit such a statement verbally.

The loud noise of the television suddenly abated. Brennan stopped her work to find Booth now looking at her, holding remote in hand, although the TV had been muted. It appeared to be on commercial break. "So how was your day?"

"Satisfactory." There was a pause. Brennan was aware that Booth's full attention was on her, so she asked one of the many questions her conversation with Angela earlier that day had brought to the front of her mind. "Are we in a relationship?"

Brennan had caught him off guard. His brow crinkled. "What?"

Brennan explained, "Angela informed me that an integral part of being in a relationship is discussing difficult topics."

Booth tilted his head. "Uh, yeah, that's true…"He spoke slowly, phrasing his words carefully. "I don't know, Bones. You tell me. You're the one who told Parker you're my girlfriend yesterday."

"He is familiar with the term 'girlfriend.' Would you have preferred that I presented the situation in another manner?"

"No, that was perfect, Bones. It's just…" He swallowed and licked his lips before continuing, "Are you my girlfriend?"

She was uncertain of their relationship standing. She did not believe it was her own choice to make, but a collective one. He had presented the idea when they went undercover at the bowling alley months ago, but despite her unabashed willingness then, the subject had not been revisited. Her voice was perhaps thinner than normal, betraying her vulnerability, as she inquired, "Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Well…" Booth swallowed again, but did not allow his eyes to leave Brennan's. "Yeah."

"Okay!"

Booth shifted away from her momentarily, "Okay?" He then leaned forward once more, closer than he had been before. "Really? I know you don't like possessive labels."

Brennan nodded slightly, smiling at her own revelation as she spoke, "I find the idea of being your girlfriend pleasing." Booth smiled in return and leaned over her laptop, pressing his lips to hers tenderly. As they pulled away for air after a long kiss, Brennan spoke to his lips, indicating to the television screen, "Your game is back on."

"Oh, seriously, Bones?" Booth said, teasingly, pinching her leg lightly as he flopped back to his side of the couch. He cast another sly glance her direction before unmuting the television.

She tried to watch the hockey game for a few seconds, but shortly gave up and returned to her novel writing. The writing did not go as smoothly as it had been before; she found her mind drifting over the events of the day. It was necessary that they discuss the prospect of informing Cam and the FBI, and, as Angela had implied, the sooner the better. So, when Booth's next commercial break began, Brennan set her laptop aside, reached across his lap for the remote, and hit the mute button.

"Bones!" Booth exclaimed playfully as he attempted to pry the remote out of her hands.

She smirked as she jerked her hand away from his reach and set the remote on her side of the coffee table. The smirk faded and her head cocked to the side as she stated in her usual halting intonation, "Angela also remarked that my pregnancy is becoming increasingly evident and she believes it is time for us to inform Cam."

Booth's eyes softened. "C'mere, Bones." He beckoned with his hands, opening his arms to make room for her. She scooted up next to him, tucking her knees to the side and laying her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his open arms around her. His hands stroked the soft fabric of her blouse where it draped against her belly. "Bones," he began, leaning forward so that his lips nearly touched her ear. "Tell Cam when you're ready. No rush, right?"

"No rush?" she asked incredulously. She retreated from his closeness so that she could speak to his face, but did not move so far as to require Booth to let go of her. "Booth, have you looked at me lately? She is an observant woman and a medical doctor! She is going to notice soon, and when she does…" Brennan took a deep breath and exhaled, "I don't know what I am to tell her!"

"Whoa, okay. What do you mean, you don't know what to tell her? Tell her you're pregnant."

Brennan tilted her head such that she was peering at Booth beneath her brows. "Booth, I'm not stupid. I know I have to tell her I'm pregnant. I mean about _us_."

"Oh, well… We talked about this, right? Tell her you used my stuff that you still had from the last time."

"But… I didn't. I don't want to lie, Booth. I've been thinking a lot about, about what you said before about the center holding and keeping the integrity of the team together—"

"And the integrity of us, you know," he eagerly added. "So we can still work together."

"Yes, Booth, but at the expense of lying to our friends?"

"Y'know, Bones," he tightened his grip around her waist, bringing her closer. "All you gotta do is tell Cam partial truths. Tell her you used my stuff. It's true. She probably won't ask any more questions, and if she does, just have her come talk to me. I'll handle it."

"What about Sweets? And the FBI?" Her eyes flicked down to his lips, which were very close now.

"All me. After you tell Cam, we'll let the FBI know, too."

Brennan forced her gaze to return to the brown orbs. She began a clinical rehash of that morning's statement to Angela. "Objectively, I understand this is the best thing to do, to maintain our work's quality. However," she paused and said his name in almost a pleading tone, "Booth, I still feel uneasy. Are the benefits truly worth the risk of the lie?"

"Yes, Bones. _We_ are worth that risk. I don't want to compromise _us_."

Brennan looked away, feeling a flush permeate her cheeks. When her gaze returned to Booth, he wore a silly Boothy grin. "You appear proud of yourself."

If his grin could get any more smug, it did. "I thought it was pretty romantic, yeah."

Brennan craned her neck forward and pressed her lips to his, tentatively at first, then harder. Her arms extended up his back and her hands caressed the nape of his neck, fingers tickling the short hair there.

As Booth's lips began their descent down her jawline, Brennan happened to glance at the television. "The game is back on, Booth."

He paused only loud enough to mutter, "You're more important than any game, Bones."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes:<p>

Decided to put this at the end. To say I had problems with this chapter is an understatement. I finally decided you guys would all rather have a high quality chapter and it take longer than getting one a week ago that would have really stunk.

Hope the wait was worth it, and hopefully I won't have as much trouble with the next few!


	14. Mum's the Word

Cam wasn't stupid, and she wasn't blind, and despite the way Angela, Hodgins, Booth, and Brennan kept dodging her these days like they had a secret they couldn't let her in on, she knew she was trustworthy enough to hear the truth. It had been like this since Angela left. Booth stopped by more often. Brennan spent more time in her office and no longer worked late nights. There had been that odd request from Booth that Cam spend more time making sure Brennan didn't get herself into toxic chemicals, which proved to be a completely ridiculous request because every time Cam asked Brennan about chemicals, Brennan had already safeguarded herself against them. When Hodgins or Booth visited Brennan's office, they shut the door behind them. It was only Angela's third day back, and Cam could already tell that she was in on the secret, too, by the hushed conversations that ended when Cam entered a room and began again when she left.

But those were just behavioral changes. Cam was highly observant. Brennan had gained weight and she was trying to hide it. Was she sick? Did she have some kind of medical condition? Was she feeling overworked?

The only conclusion Cam could come to was that Brennan was suffering from some kind of ailment that was reducing her ability or desire to work, was now contemplating leaving the Jeffersonian, and didn't want Cam to know. Perhaps Brennan believed Cam would be upset with her. She'd let all the others know for support, but not her boss. As time went on, Cam was becoming more and more impatient.

It was time to get a handle on the situation.

She found Brennan leaning over the backlit examination table in the bone room, analyzing the bones with Clark's help. She wore her standard blue labcoat, and from Cam's current angle, she could discern nothing out of the ordinary.

"Dr. Edison, may I have a few minutes alone with Dr. Brennan?"

Clark set the ulna he was holding back on the table and looked to Brennan for an answer. She nodded, so Clark began taking his gloves off as he said, "I'll be revising the catalogue of the injuries with what we've discussed here, Dr. Brennan." He walked from the room, leaving the lab's alpha females alone.

"Dr. Brennan."

"Yes?" She did not look at Cam, but continued her examination of the metacarpal she was holding.

Cam took a deep breath and made her way across the room until she came to the position Clark had recently vacated. She took a quick glance at the doorway to make sure Clark had fully departed before beginning. "Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

Brennan did not look up from the examination table as she began her answer, "There are many things going here that you may not know about." Here her face rose to meet Cam's gaze. "Despite your constant reminders to keep you in the loop, each of us is primarily self-initiating when it comes to our work and we require little maintenance to complete assigned tasks. As far as specifics go, I believe Hodgins may be conducting an unauthorized experiment involving pancake batter—"

Cam held her hands up to stop Brennan's explanation. "Not exactly what I meant, Dr. Brennan." She placed her hands on the table, unconsciously running her fingertips along its edge. "I don't mean to pry into your personal life, but I'm not blind. I can see that something is going on here. Everyone tiptoeing around me, making sure not to give away some secret, and I know the secret is about you. I don't know if there is a medical condition you're trying to hide, but I can assure you, whatever it is, it is okay to tell me. I may be your boss, but I'm also your friend."

Brennan gulped, braced her hands against the table, and looked Cam straight in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Cam blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I am currently gestating. With child. I will be requiring approximately six weeks off around the end of this year, beginning of the next, when the baby comes."

Cam's gestures became unusually pronounced as she struggled to find words to communicate what she was thinking. "Wait, wait, no, back up. You're pregnant… right now? Right, you're currently…"

"You appear to be experiencing difficulty accepting this as fact. I am still of child bearing age; there are no medical issues that would prevent me from conceiving."

"Yes, I know that, Dr. Brennan. It's just, the last time you announced you were having a baby, you weren't actually pregnant."

"I can show you the ultrasound." Brennan made a motion to begin taking her gloves off.

"No, no, that won't be necessary, I believe you. Does Booth know?" She asked, stressing his name.

"Yes, of course." Brennan said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Naturally, Cam had been initially inclined to believe this would be Booth's child, but something in Brennan's tone of voice set off a lightbulb in Cam's head, confirming without a shadow of doubt in her mind that such was the case. She voiced this revelation aloud, no uncertainty in her tone, "Booth's the father."

Brennan's voice cracked, "Yes…"

Cam's eyes lit up as she pounded her fists onto the examination table. "It's about damn time!" Cam hardly noticed Brennan's confused expression in her excitement. "That's why Booth told me to keep close watch on you! Duh! Why didn't I see this? Here, do you need me to get a stool for you?" Cam retrieved a stool from the corner of the room as she spoke, bringing it with her as she approached Brennan. "You shouldn't be standing up so much."

"Thank you, Cam." Brennan stated as she awkwardly pulled herself up onto the stool.

Cam's gaze dropped to Brennan's midsection, but the labcoat covered up any signs of a bump. "How far along are you?"

"Fourteen weeks."

Brennan was nearing on four months pregnant and was just now telling her? "Wow. You two have been… and… for fourteen weeks? And no one knew?" If Brennan was fourteen weeks pregnant, then surely the two had been together longer than that. Cam found it almost impossible to fathom that Booth had been able to control his natural inclinations toward public displays of affection for that length of time, and the tone of her voice betrayed it.

Brennan spoke softly, "Cam, I—"

The grin simply would not fade from Cam's face. She gestured, hands and forearms toward Brennan. "I am just so happy for you two, Dr. Brennan. I know you've wanted this for a long time, and so has Seeley."

Brennan spoke much more loudly this time, in an exasperated tone. "Cam, I'm trying to tell you something!"

"What?" Her smile faded. "Oh, my God, is there something wrong? Something else is going on?"

"Cam! I'm fine, but, Booth… did not want you to know about our relationship status."

"What?" Cam's brow furrowed and she shifted backward a few inches. "Why not?"

"The plan is to tell the FBI the fetus was conceived via artificial insemination. Booth seems inclined to believe such a ruse will decrease the likelihood of the FBI severing our partnership. He was worried the more people who knew the truth, the greater the chance of discovery."

"So he doesn't trust me all of a sudden?"

"No, Cam, I do not believe he is behaving entirely rationally regarding this subject."

Cam smiled. "Of course not, Dr. Brennan. Booth is hardly ever rational." She shook her head, "Especially not when it involves you."

Brennan sighed and relaxed into a more comfortably slouched position on the stool. "I find I am relieved that you know the truth."

"Me, too." Cam reached out a hand and placed it on Brennan's shoulder, squeezing lightly. She knew Brennan would likely appreciate a hug, but the emotion of the moment overtook Cam. She began the physical contact by placing a hand on Brennan's shoulder, squeezing lightly, which she soon snaked around Brennan's back in a warm gesture. Much to her relief, Brennan hugged her neck in response. "Congratulations, Dr. Brennan. If you need anything at all, let me know. I mean it." As she began out the doorway, "Should I send Clark back in?"

"Yes, that would be beneficial." 

* * *

><p>"Seeley."<p>

Booth looked up to see Cam in his office doorway, hands on her hips. He mimicked her tone, "Camille."

"Don't call me Camille." Cam said with a smirk.

"Don't call me Seeley," Booth answered customarily, matching Cam's inflection and facial expression. "To what do I owe this visit?"

A warm smile spread across Cam's face as she shut the door and approached Booth's desk.

"Why do you look so happy? Did I do something wrong?"

She stopped a few feet from his desk, but did not take a seat. "Seeley, I'm a woman, and I just found out two of my closest friends are having a baby together. I'm on cloud nine. I can't help it." Her smile widened.

Booth stood. "She told you?"

"She told me that she's pregnant. I figured out you two were together on my own." She paused and her tone turned more serious. "Seeley, are you really telling the FBI she got pregnant by artificial insemination?"

"I just want to play it safe, Cam."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever. But you and I both know you can't keep up this ploy forever. They _will_ find out, and when they do, it's going to all come crashing down around your ears. I know you. You're going to want to live with her, if you aren't doing so already. If past relationships are any indication, you're going to want to propose."

"I'm not doing that this time." Booth growled immediately, volume low and voice emanating from deep within his chest.

Cam scoffed, "I'll believe _that_ when I see it." She softened, "The point is, someone is going to notice. Who knows," she shrugged her arms, "maybe you can keep your relationship a secret until she has the baby. Then what? You're not going to leave her alone. How will you explain to the FBI why you're living with her, with the baby?"

"Cam, I know this isn't a permanent fix. I know I will eventually have to tell the truth here, but right now, I think this is the best decision. Bones' life is already changing so much, so fast, and if our partnership ends, too, I don't know that she can handle it."

"You know what _I_ can't handle, Seeley?" She took two steps closer to his desk, pointing a finger at his chest as she continued, "If you do this wrong, if you push her too far, if you leave her, if you do anything that makes her believe you've betrayed her, whether or not you actually have, she will run. She will run so far, so fast. And you know what? I'm selfish. I'll have to find a new forensic anthropologist, and there aren't any even remotely near Dr. Brennan's abilities. But it's more than that. I will lose a friend. Probably two, because I…"Cam's voice caught in her throat. She swallowed and looked down, away from Booth's gaze.

Booth made his way around the desk. He assured her, "Cam, I'm not gonna leave her. Or betray her. Or any of those things. I promise."

Cam looked up again. "Good. You sound sincere." She paused and chanced a smile before her expression once again reverted to a serious state. "Have you talked to her about why you wanted this kept a secret? Why you want to tell the FBI this bogus artificial insemination story? Because, knowing Dr. Brennan, she may view you wanting to hide your actual relationship as a betrayal in and of itself."

"Of course we've talked about it. She knows I would never do that."

"I think you should make sure of that. I might be inclined to think so, if I was her."

Nothing was said between the friends for a handful of moments as each appeared to think about the conversation that had just taken place. Slowly, a dreamy smile crept back onto Cam's face.

"You're smiling again," Booth observed, smirking.

Cam's smile only widened. "You two are going to have the cutest babies."

All emotion drained from Booth's face in an instant. His eyes widened and jaw dropped. "Babies? Plural? Do you know something I don't know?"

Cam merely sustained her all-knowing smile. "Congratulations, Seeley." She gave him a quick hug, which he, in his perplexity, did not return, and then left his office, leaving behind a bewildered Seeley Booth. 

* * *

><p>"Sweets." Booth guided Brennan into Sweets' office by the forearm. Before Sweets had even had opportunity to turn around, the duo was already making themselves comfortable on the couch. Booth propped his feet up on the coffee table while Brennan slouched somewhat uncharacteristically into the armrest nearest her.<p>

"By all means, make yourselves at home." Sweets gestured to Booth's feet as he made his way from his desk to his customary armchair. "I have a session scheduled to begin in five minutes, but you two are welcome to stay until then."

"Your session is cancelled."

"No it isn't. I just spoke to the patient fifteen minutes ago; he said he was on his way."

"We'll leave, then. C'mon, Bones." Booth jerked his feet from the coffee table and began the motion of standing.

Brennan grabbed Booth's cuff and tugged downward. She whispered, "Booth, no, we have to tell him."

He leaned forward, bracing his hands against the back of the couch. "Play along, Bones."

Brennan's eyes lit up with recognition of Booth's ploy. "Oh…" She smiled and allowed Booth to help her off the couch. They made their way to the door. Booth had opened it and was ushering Brennan out before Sweets finally snapped to his senses.

Booth and Brennan heard a loud exhalation behind them, followed by Sweets calling to them, "Fine! My next session is cancelled! What do you two need from me?"

Booth could not help but grin victoriously as they turned to discover Sweets now standing, shins resting against the coffee table, arm outstretched toward the door as if it could pull them back in. His hand dropped slowly under their gaze, and he tucked both hands into his pockets.

"We just need a few minutes of your shrinky, undivided attention," Booth explained as he and Brennan settled themselves back into their previous positions on the couch.

Sweets' eyes shifted quickly between the pair sitting on his couch, searching for further clues in their countenances. He settled into his chair and crossed his legs before asking, "Well?"

"I'm pregnant."

Booth's head jerked to Brennan, mouth slightly agape and brow knotted. He thought he was going to tell Sweets. "What?"

"What?" Brennan asked incredulously.

Booth leaned close to her and whispered through tight lips, "I thought I was gonna tell him."

Following Booth's lead, Brennan also whispered. "I'm the one that's pregnant. I should be the one to tell him."

Booth was unsure as to whether or not Brennan was acting, but their hushed conversation was interrupted by Sweets' uncharacteristically high pitched voice.

"Stop! What?"

"I'm pregnant."

Sweets' mouth was agape and his brown eyes wide. "How… how did this happen?"

"Traditionally, pregnancy is the result of sexual intercourse—"

"Bones!" Booth extended an arm to grab her knee, effectively halting her explanation. "What happened to me doing the talking here?"

"You weren't saying anything!"

"You didn't give me a chance!"

"Stop! Stop doing that! Stop shutting me out! Talk to me! What is going on here?"

Brennan stared at Booth pointedly, waiting for him to respond. He did, calmly repeating a previous statement. "Bones is pregnant."

Sweets looked like he wanted to say something, mouth opening and closing pointlessly while his brow knitted and unknitted at random intervals. Finally, his gaze settled on Brennan's belly. His dark brows relaxed as his eyes opened even wider and his mouth dropped open in shock. There were a few moments of silence in the room before Sweets finally licked his lips, swallowed, and continued, gaze not wavering from Brennan as he spoke, "Are you… a couple?"

"No," Brennan answered succinctly, without pausing to think.

Booth found himself inadvertently asking, "No?" As soon as he realized what he had said, he covered with a resounded, "No!" directed at Sweets.

Sweets raised one of his already raised eyebrows even higher. "Who is the father?"

Booth looked at Brennan before speaking up. She seemed rather content to let him do the talking this time, leaning back into the couch, arms crossed over her chest and lips firmly pressed together.

"She used… my… stuff."

Sweets leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

"Are you okay?" Booth asked.

Sweets shook his head, slowly at first but with accelerating velocity. In culmination, he lifted his head from his hands and exclaimed, "No! No, I am not okay! I should never have allowed you two to quit couples counseling! Do you two not see everything that has gone wrong between you since we quit? You split up – each of you travelled halfway across the world to get away from the other, for God's sake! You come back, Agent Booth, with a girlfriend you parade around like she's a showpiece, and you, Dr. Brennan, act like everything's just fine. Then, you propose to her, and… and you act like nothing at all happened! You won't talk to each other, you won't talk to me so I can help you get through this, and now… Can't you two see that you have used each other? In a time of emotional stress, you have each sought to give the other what they want, without actually giving them what they want. Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, still recovering from the stress of a previous relationship, could not deny your request because he didn't want to lose you as a friend or… whatever you two call yourselves. And Agent Booth, you should never have agreed anyway because, because…"

Sweets paused, collecting himself and, it seemed by the way he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, preparing himself for his upcoming assertion. "Because I still believe that you are in love." He paused and his brow crinkled, as if he expected one of them to counter his comment. As neither of them did, he said nothing for a good few seconds, staring them down, daring them to respond. Booth and Brennan glanced at each other, but said nothing. "Don't you two have anything to say to that?" he finally asked, growing impatient.

Booth tried to think of what he should say in this situation. Should he deny his love for Brennan? Hardly. Even if their ploy had been the actual situation, he would never have denied what he felt for her. So, in response to Sweets' accusation, Booth merely raised his eyebrows and casted a hesitant glance upon Brennan. "Well…"

Much to Booth's appreciation, Brennan interrupted him before he could say anything incriminating. "In the contextual extent of your words, you are correct. Of course we love each other."

Booth instinctually asked, in almost a whisper, "Bones?"

"There is more than one meaning to the word love, Booth. You and I share what the Greek called philia," when Booth gave her a confused look, she explained, "the brotherly love, or friendship love."

"Oh." Booth felt his heart fall into his stomach. He had momentarily believed Brennan had just professed her love to him, which was not a line they had even begun to cross. Booth was hesitant to rush her into anything like that, recalling the last time he'd offered her an ultimatum for which she had not been prepared.

"I disagree, Dr. Brennan. To continue with your reference to the four Greek words for love, I would argue that you two obviously share eros love."

Both Sweets and Brennan looked at Booth, who lowered his eyebrows and crinkled his upper lip in a quizzical expression. "I don't know Greek, you two."

"Passionate, romantic love." Brennan explained. "Sweets, while I acknowledge that you are inclined to your own professional opinion on this matter, I assure you, Booth and I do not view each other in that manner. Booth was not by any means forced into this situation. I would never do that to him, and your suggesting otherwise, that I took advantage, was uncalled for. While we may not fit _your_ definition of a healthy friendship and partnership, I assure you, that is just what we have."

Sweets raised his hands defensively. "Okay, okay, I believe you. You think you're fine. But now you're adding a baby to that relationship? Friendship? Whatever? Are you going to raise the child together? Live together?" When Brennan was silent, Sweets added, "Dr. Brennan?"

Booth intervened. "Sweets, too far."

"No, I disagree, Agent Booth. These are important variables in your partnership and it is vital that I assess–"

"Sweets, the only thing that matters here is how we work together! Nothing else! Bones having a baby is not going to change our work quality, aside from her needing to be more careful in the field!"

"But how you two work together will be affected by your—"

Booth, becoming increasingly agitated by Sweets' probing, exclaimed, "We're not perfect! We don't have everything figured out yet, Sweets!"

"Maybe you should start figuring it out, then. Since you have so kindly dropped this information upon me, I am now in the position to gauge whether or not your relationship changes have made you unfit for duty. If you cannot answer them, I must assume the worst."

"Sweets, you can't break us apart for this! We're not disobeying any rules here!"

"Booth." Brennan placed a hand on Booth's lower thigh, much like he had to her earlier during their conversation. Booth looked up into her tranquil blue eyes and felt himself immediately calming down. "He's not saying he's going to split us up, Booth. He simply desires information regarding how we are handling this situation. It's okay." She then addressed Sweets, "We don't know everything just yet, but we do not anticipate any relationship changes that would adversely affect our work, aside from my obvious decline of fieldwork. If you require it, I would be open to resuming therapy so that you can assess the changes in our work. I would assume Booth would also be open to the possibility."

Well, no, Booth really wasn't open to that possibility, but he didn't have a choice. "I'd be fine with that." He lied, but not for the first time today by any means.

Sweets acquiesced hesitantly. "I… suppose we can pick this up later." He pulled a planner from the nearby corner table and flipped a few pages. "Next Wednesday afternoon at three? Would that work for both of you?"

There was mutual nodding, although Booth did grumble something about twelve year olds under his breath.

"Excellent. My _scheduled_ patient is waiting outside the door, so if you…" Both Booth and Brennan stood up and began to the door before Sweets even finished. "Wait! I… I don't believe I said… Congratulations, Dr. Brennan."

"Thank you, Sweets." She glanced to Booth, a eyes twinkling with the knowledge the two of them shared but Sweets did not. He responded with a little smile, opened the door for her, and with his hand gently pressed against one shoulder blade, ushered her out.


	15. Max!

"Congrats, man," Hodgins caught up to Booth as they were both leaving the Jeffersonian one evening. "I've been meaning to tell you personally, man to man, and haven't gotten the chance. You know, Angela is way excited for you two. I think she's more excited for you than she was for _us_."

"Thanks," Booth continued walking without really turning around. He was in something of a hurry. Brennan had already gone home to her apartment, he'd just been finishing up a few things with Cam on a current case, and was in the mood to get back to Brennan.

"Uhm, so I was just wondering, have you told Max yet?"

Booth stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face Hodgins, who nearly bumped into the taller man. "The first thing you ask me is if I've told Max? Seriously?"

Hodgins stalled, mouthing something as he got into what he really wanted to say, "When I found out Angie was pregnant, the first thing I thought about – well, after the initial blissful shock wore off – was what the _hell_ her father would do to me. I mean, I already made the mistake of not giving notice about our marriage _twice_. Trust me, I was _not_ gonna make that mistake again." Hodgins paused here, brows furrowing, "Booth, you okay? Normally you would've interrupted me by now or left, or just kept walking. Booth?"

Booth was staring over Hodgins' head at the far wall of the parking lot. "We didn't tell Max."

"Oh, geez, Booth, you better—" Booth had already turned around and was half-walking, half-jogging in the other direction. "Booth! Be careful! Angie's dad's scary, but I don't think he's ever killed anyone!"

* * *

><p>"Bones!" Booth knocked on her door. They'd exchanged spare keys weeks ago, "just in case," but he knew she'd prefer he didn't just barge in if not necessary. It was Thursday evening, an evening they had taken to spending apart from each other in their unsaid living patterns.<p>

"Come on in, Booth!" Brennan was in the kitchen, preparing something for dinner. She was barefoot and wearing loose fitting pajamas: baggy purple and blue checked pants and a plain white t-shirt. Her hair was still damp, beginning to curl as it dried.

The smell of melted cheese and toasted bread wafted into Booth's nostrils. He followed his nose to her side in the kitchen. "Hmm… four sandwiches? Were you expecting someone?" He placed both hands on her growing waistline. "Other than the obvious, of course." With that, Brennan smiled, turned to Booth, and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"I did hope you would drop in… But if you hadn't, I think I could actually have eaten all of them." Booth raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not, but I am very hungry. I could eat a tiger."

"Horse, Bones." He grabbed the plate of sandwiches. "Shall we?"

"Yes." Brennan poured two glasses of milk and joined Booth at the dining room table. Booth ate two sandwiches and Brennan ate two sandwiches, plus Booth's crusts.

"The crust has all the fiber, Booth."

"I don't care, it's disgusting."

"My mother always told me they would put hair on your chest."

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

Brennan just smiled and nibbled on his last bit of crust. "Was there a reason you dropped by, or did you just want food?"

Booth sighed. Here it was; he would have to reveal his reason for this visit. "Bones, have you talked to Max?"

"I have not spoken to him in a number of months, Booth. Why?" Brennan was in the process of getting out of her chair to put the dishes away, but Booth stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Sit back down, Bones." Her brows furrowed as she sunk back into the chair. "Then you haven't told him about… us? About the baby?"

"No, he hasn't called me, and he hasn't been by. You know he doesn't keep a cell phone and he never stays in one place for long. I can only conclude he's gone on an extended out-of-state trip." She paused. "Is that all you're worried about?"

"The thing is," Booth licked his upper lip and looked down as he momentarily swallowed, collecting himself before he made the assertion she would surely question. "I'm pretty sure he already knows."

She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. "While my father has practiced observing me from a distance in the past, we currently entertain a relationship. If he desires to be privy to my everyday business, he will see fit to contact me and inquire." She rose from the chair, dodging the hand Booth shot her direction in an attempt to keep her seated.

"Bones, that's not what I—" As Brennan began collecting the dishes, he interjected upon himself, "Bones! Let me do that!"

"Booth, I am perfectly capable of carrying my own dishes to the sink." She lightly jerked his plate from his hands and started into the kitchen, but Booth jumped up to follow her.

As Brennan started the water to rinse the dishes, Booth gently shoved her out of the way, saying, "Stop, Bones. I'm doing it."

Brennan rolled her eyes and backed away to lean against a nearby counter, mumbling something about being perfectly capable and not an invalid.

While he rinsed, Booth continued his previous train of thought. "At the bowling alley—"

"When we were undercover?"

"When else?" He glanced Brennan's direction, making sure she was serious. "I think your dad figured it out."

"It is highly unlikely my father could detect such miniscule alterations in my appearance when I was merely six weeks pregnant."

"No, Bones." Booth opened Brennan's dishwasher and deposited the plates and glasses in a haphazard fashion. "He could tell we are together." When Brennan raised her eyes at him, he continued to clarify, "The way he looked at us! You know, with sparkling eyes and that silly, knowing smirk-grin?"

"Eyes cannot sparkle; the appearance of a twinkle is an effect of lighting or the result of pupil dilation." When Booth merely stared at her blankly in response, she sighed and went on, "I did not notice any of that, but I concede to your conclusion, because you are far more skilled at reading people than me. What is your point?"

"The point is," Booth pushed the dishwasher shut, grunting as he returned to a standing position, "Max might already know about us."

Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh! You are worried he will not approve? It seems to me that if you having sex with me distressed him, he would have indicated as such by now."

"No, that's not it, Bones, I'm not worried about his approval." He leaned against the counter nearest the sink. "Bones, if he finds out you're pregnant secondhand, don't you think he'll be… upset?" His inquiring eyes bored into hers, awaiting a comforting response.

"You're the one who knows how people react, Booth. Just because he's my father doesn't mean I understand him." She grabbed a damp hand towel off the counter and dodged Booth on her way out of the kitchen.

While Brennan gave the table a quick once-over with the towel, Booth watched, eyes fixed on her abdomen. As she moved, the loose-fitting t-shirt would occasionally hug the skin over her tummy. At fifteen weeks, she was showing just enough that anyone who knew her would notice a difference. "Bones, I'm just worried… What if Max doesn't show up until you're eight months along? Or worse, after you have the baby? I don't think he would ever forgive me. I don't want a tattoo of his face on my shoulder."

"I don't know what that means."

He shook his head. "Nevermind." Brennan folded and deposited the hand towel next to the sink. Booth made his way behind her so that when she turned around, his hands were in proper position to wrap around her hips, as if to keep her from running from the penetrating question he was about to ask. "It doesn't bother you that he just pops in and out of your life like this?"

Brennan avoided, "I am certain my father will turn up in his own time. And when he does, I will tell him."

Booth slid his arms upward and tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her close. His head tilted forward, nose touching the skin between her eyebrows. "_We_ will tell him."

"If we are both present at the imminent moment of his arrival, we will both tell him. Otherwise, I suppose whoever he corners first will present the news." Smirking, she angled her head upward to meet his gaze.

Booth responded seriously. "You didn't answer my question."

Brennan gulped, her gaze lowering to the level of Booth's chest. Her own hands snaked upward to rest on the cool white fabric of his dress shirt, to tug at his rebellious red and green striped tie. "That is… who my father is. I find I love him despite his faults. I know he will be there for me, if I need him, and I suppose," her hands deftly slid Booth's tie out of his collar as she raised her chin to meet his, "that is all that matters." She kissed him once. "Was that the right answer?"

He pecked her on the lips. "That was a great answer, Bones."

As Booth craned forward to begin a long kiss, Brennan leaned backward slightly and two of her fingers found their way to his lips. "Just so you know, your disorganized placement of the dishes into the dishwasher will have to be remedied before the wash cycle is initiated."

"Not now, Bones." He kissed the fingers, then brushed them aside, aiming at the greater bounty found in that pair of rosy lips.


	16. Shopping

"Sweetie, you have worn that dress three times in two weeks." Angela observed as Brennan slid into the chair across from her at the break table, setting down a mug of tea.

Brennan glanced down, her fingers pulling at the soft grey and lavender fabric, "I like this dress."

Angela looked pointedly at her friend. "Eventually, it's not going to fit anymore."

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

Angela's lips tightened into a thin, knowing smile, but she did not offer up response to Brennan's question. "Look, if you're not gonna wear the clothes I gave you, let me take you shopping."

"Angela, I have work to do. When I leave the lab, I don't want to do anything but take a nap."

"C'mon, Brennan!" Angela reached a hand across the table, but Brennan responded only with a wrinkled brow and scoffing shake of the head. Angela rubbed her upper lip in thought, then, with a brightened expression and tone of voice, eagerly proffered, "You could bring Booth."

"Why would Booth want to go shopping with us?" Brennan's hands gripped her mug tightly.

"Trust me, Brennan." Angela grinned knowingly. "I'll make it worth his while."

* * *

><p>Angela and Brennan stood rifling through a rack of clothing in a maternity clothing store. They had arrived less than five minutes prior, and Angela's excitement level seemed only to escalate the longer they browsed as she squealed and held up various articles of clothing. Booth was not with them; he would not be done at work until five-thirty and would join them afterward.<p>

"Angela, I do not understand why you are making such a big deal about this."

"About buying maternity clothes? The whole having a baby thing?" Angela hung up the dress she had been holding and set a hand on her hip. "It's a big deal, Brennan."

"You gave me some of yours—"

"Which you don't wear."

"I cannot wear leggings to work, Angela," Brennan stated obviously in her best monotone.

"Sure you can. I did."

Brennan indicated to her current attire, the same grey and lavender dress she'd been wearing earlier that day, along with the usual clunky jewelry and black booties. "Angela, you and I have different styles and body types. I do not wear leggings."

Angela sighed. "Okay, I get your point. Are you at least wearing the jeans?"

"Yes, I wore them Saturday. They are very comfortable, thank you." Brennan grabbed a blue jean skirt from the rack and held it up for her friend's evaluation. "Do you like this?"

"No, Bren. Put that back. You just said you need something to wear to work."

"But this is a skirt." She held the fabric to her hips. "I wear skirts to work frequently."

"Have you ever worn a blue jean skirt?"

Brennan looked down at the fabric. It was undoubtedly shorter than her usual skirts and considerably less professional. "No."

"Exactly. Put it back. Here, try this one." Angela handed Brennan simple but nicely made black skirt.

"Oh, yes," Brennan held this one to herself as well, "this does appear to be significantly more similar to my usual work attire."

"That's what you want. It doesn't hurt to be spontaneous sometimes, though. Get something out of your comfort zone." Angela, grinning ear to ear, displayed for her friend a layered, ruffled, cream skirt with a small floral pattern.

"That looks like what you wear."

"But don't you like what I wear?"

"I don't wear ruffles."

"Aww. You're no fun." She hung the piece back up. There were a few moments of silence while each browsed the racks in solitude. Angela seemed to have cooled off from her previous excitement and was migrating her cooler, nosier side. "I haven't had a chance to ask you, how did Sweets take it?"

She pulled another black skirt, this one longer and with a lacy detailing along the bottom hem. "He appeared moderately distressed by the notion and verbally pronounced our idiocy, but overall, he did not take it poorly."

"You only need one black skirt, sweetie. Sweets called you idiots?"

She glanced between the two skirts, finally deciding on the first. Her response was disconnected at best, "Not in those terms, but he proclaimed that we are less sensible than desirable due to our inability to face underlying issues stemming from Booth's previous relationship woes." She trailed off into silence, swallowing as she looked down and away from her friend.

Angela laughed, but Brennan's face remained serious. "Oh, sweetie, you don't believe that, do you? Sweets is probably just mad he wasn't in on the secret earlier."

"Yes, of course." They moved to the next rack.

"Is he making you… do anything?"

"We have to meet with him once a week so that he can assess work relationship alterations."

"Well that sounds annoying."

Brennan shrugged. "He primarily asks us leading questions and forces us to play meaningless psychological games. I do not understand how he learns anything from the sessions, but they keep him appeased."

The women continued browsing for another twenty minutes. Brennan's arms were full of an assortment of clothes to try on. Angela half-helped, half-pushed her to the fitting room with the instructions, "Let me see _everything_, and I mean it!" She sat down on the bench in front of the door to Brennan's fitting room. It was a relatively open store, such that from where Angela was sitting, she could see most of the store, including the entrance.

The door opened. Brennan emerged in her black skirt and a blue wrap blouse. "Well?"

Angela nodded in approval. "Standard office clothes. How do they fit?"

"The top is loose," Brennan tugged on the extra fabric around her midsection, "but I suppose there's a reason for that. This skirt's waistband is very strange." She lifted the shirt up to reveal the thick band.

"Get used to it, sweetie." Angela winked. She set her hands on Brennan's shoulders and spun her about. As she pushed her back into the room, "Keep going!"

As Angela turned back to the bench, she caught sight of a tall man in a suit wandering about the store aimlessly. She raised a hand and yelled, "Booth! Over here!"

Booth's head jerked upward and in Angela's direction. His eyes lit up in recognition. Ten Booth strides later, he was next to Angela. "Where's Bones?"

Angela pointed behind her. "Changing." She leaned close to Booth's ear. "You could peek." Booth's cheeks flushed as he glanced at the fitting room door. "No need to be embarrassed anymore, Booth." His cheeks reddened even more.

"Booth, is that you?" Brennan called from inside. "I can't reach this button—" The door opened to Brennan in a semi-casual high-waisted solid blue dress. She was awkwardly trying to reach a button in that place on her back she couldn't quite reach.

Booth made his way to her so that he was behind her. He brushed her hair out of the way and slid his hands along her upper back to the button Brennan was unable to reach. He deftly pushed the button through the hole, then moved her hair back to its original arrangement. His hands rested on her shoulders, and Brennan turned around to face him. His hands moved to her face, thumbs tracing the contours of her cheekbones. "Beautiful."

Brennan cocked her head to the side. "Booth."

"Seems a little big right here, though." He tugged at the fabric over her belly.

"I think that's the idea."

"Won't be for long." His palm pressed against her tummy as he grinned sweetly. Brennan smiled as well. In the moment, they both forgot where they were. Booth leaned forward and kissed her lips softly.

"Ahem."

Booth and Brennan spun around, and, as if caught in the act, their hands flew off each other.

"Oh, no, don't stop. I just wanted to remind you that there are others in this store." She pointed to the cashier, a tall youngish man, who glanced away when he noticed he was being referenced.

"Oh, yeah." Booth left the room. "Looks nice, Bones."

Brennan raised an eyebrow, then closed the door behind her.

This cycle repeated: Brennan opening the door, Booth telling her how amazing she looked, and Angela, for once, being the practical one with previous experience making sure everything fit properly and would be wearable the next few months. When the door was shut, Booth warded off Angela's probing, sexually suggestive questions.

"All right, that's all of them," Brennan announced as she entered the room a final time. "I'll be out in just a minute. Hold on. I don't remember getting this." There was a brief pause. "I don't know what this means." Another pause, and Brennan emerged in black slacks and a black t-shirt on which was written, in bold white letters,_ 'KNOCKED UP'_.

"Bones!" Booth shot out of his seated position. His gaze rapidly shifted from her face, to the white text, to her belly. "You can't wear that!"

"Why not?" she asked, affronted. "What does it mean?"

"Just take it off. Just take it off, okay? I'll explain later. Put your dress back on." He made a shooing motion with one hand, directing her back into the fitting room. Booth turned around to a grinning, giggling Angela. "Seriously?"

"Geez, lighten up, Booth. It was a joke."

"She doesn't even know what that means, Angela." Booth's voice was quiet. He sat down next to Angela and his voice lowered even further, "This is about more than Bones being knocked up. We are together. We are having a baby. And I…"

Angela quietly took over for him. "I love her, too, Booth. I'm sorry."

His voice caught slightly, "It's fine."

Brennan emerged from the room, arms heavily weighted down by an unwieldy load of clothes.

"You know what you want, sweetie?" Angela asked as she and Booth stood.

"Yes. I'm ready to check out." Angela removed the stack Brennan indicated and hung it on a nearby rack. They made their way to the register, where the man who had been staring at them earlier awaited.

Booth eyed the young man curiously. He was thin and on the short side, wearing a red cap, the bill pulled low over his eyes, which clashed styles with his polo and slacks. "Excuse me, but isn't it a little weird for a guy to be working in a maternity clothing store?"

He shrugged. "Man's gotta make a living. You all ready to check out?"

Brennan flopped the stack onto the counter, obviously not the least bit perturbed. Her things were bagged and paid for with no further incidents. Booth insisted upon taking the bags for Brennan, and the trio exited the store.


	17. Correlate

The alarm clock's incessant blaring roused Brennan from her deep sleep. Her hand slammed against the snooze button. Before her pregnancy, she _never_ hit the snooze button in the morning, but things had changed. Besides, Booth would wake her up if she overslept.

'_Booth.'_ The thought spread a contented smile across her lips. She exhaled lightly, and her eyelids cracked just so far that light trickled through her lashes. She slowly turned her head to its side, expecting to see the silhouette of a blanket-wrapped Booth in his early stages of waking.

The bed was empty, but Brennan felt no worry. She rationalized that was probably already up, roaming about her apartment. Maybe he was making breakfast. He did that on occasion. She stretched an arm over the soft, cool sheets. Cool. How long had Booth been up? She heard a crinkling sound as her fingers landed on paper. Why was there paper in the bed? Her eyes snapped open as she grabbed the paper. She jerked into a sitting position to read it, not terribly quickly, as her eighteen-week belly was in the way of that particular movement, but quickly enough that she became lightheaded. The sudden rush of blood brought spots to her vision, which she waited a few moments to clear before reading. The note was written on a sheet of computer paper, black ink, in Booth's scrawled handwriting.

_Bones,_

_Got a call, dead body, case, you know the drill. Apparently it's a 'fleshy' one, so I called Cam and didn't wake you. Let me know when you get to the lab, if I'm not there already._

_Booth_

_P.S. Say good morning to the baby for me!_

Brennan set the paper on her lap. "Booth," she muttered. She wasn't angry with him – on the contrary, she was relieved she hadn't been dragged out in the wee morning hours to observe a body whose specifications fell under Cam's expertise. Still, as she turned to set her feet on the floor and pushed herself up, more slowly this time so as not to repeat her lightheadedness, she could not help but wish Booth had at least woken her.

He was so considerate. That consideration was one of the personality traits that had struck Brennan strongly from the beginning. It was a trait she longed for, to have someone show such care and attention toward her, and one she had not known for many years. Brennan had felt his attention and attraction to her from early on in their joint career, but these past few months had been a new level of awareness entirely. She found she loved it. She reveled in it. And yet, at times it was smothering, knowing he thought she required coddling.

Temperance Brennan could have handled being woken up early to prevent that split second of worry in about the fact Booth was gone. She could have handled it, but she knew Booth was only trying to protect her, and despite her wandering trains of thought, she appreciated that.

* * *

><p>Booth hopped out of the SUV. Bright lights from first responders lit the dark sky, framing the solitary, small, blue, wooden house. It was barely six a.m., and, despite the numerous police officers milling about, Booth was alone in his trek to the front door. A familiar face greeted him there, flashing a quick toothy grin before speaking.<p>

"Beat you. Body's this way." Cam took stride alongside Booth, leading him down the hallway and off to the left.

Booth mumbled, "Good morning to you, too. I didn't know we were racing."

She smirked slightly, but changed the subject. "So how did you slip away from Dr. Brennan?"

"Very carefully." Cam raised an eyebrow, to which Booth responded quickly, "I left her a note."

"A note?" Cam scoffed. "Good luck with that."

They approached the blue bag on the floor, zipped up tight. The carpeting was stained crimson, but no other gore was present. Booth dug a couple notecards and a pen out of his jacket. "So what've we got here?"

Cam approached the bag, but did not kneel down in Brennan's customary fashion. "Female, which is about all I can tell from the body. Like I told you on the phone, she's pretty mutilated." Cam unzipped the top of the bag in one swift motion, unveiling a grotesquely slashed face and neck as well as a butchered haircut.

Booth took a step back at her sudden reveal. "Whoa, didn't need to – that's enough, put that back, I get the picture."

"The pattern is similar to that unsolved case we had a few weeks ago," Cam informed as she zipped the bag back up.

"Yeah, I got that much from the detective's description over the phone, Cam." He scribbled something, taking a quick glance around the room before continuing. "Get the body back to the lab. I'm going to check up with these other guys, see what they know about who owns the house. See if there are any possible connections to the last murder fitting this M.O." He turned and was at once gone from the room.

"Sure thing, Booth, I'll just…" Cam sighed. He was gone. She raised her voice to call out to the nearby tech, "Can I get some help over here?"

Meanwhile, Booth approached the detective who had called him earlier that morning. "What do we know?"

"House belongs to a Ms. Elizabeth Greene, single, mid-thirties. The victim's mother came by early this morning, to drop off Ms. Greene's eight-month-old daughter. She's a nurse; she has to be at the hospital at five-thirty. She'd kept the baby for the night. She's right over there, the victim's mother, I mean." He rifled through his papers, "A… Robin Greene. I've got the witness statement right here. Anyway, she called local PD at four forty-nine after discovering the victim."

"Thanks. Let me know if anything comes up." Booth shot off in Regina Greene's direction.

* * *

><p>Brennan arrived at the Jeffersonian without any further information as to what was going on. She had opted not to call Cam or Booth on the basis that they would likely be waiting for her at the lab. She rounded a corner and had just stepped through the sliding glass doors when she was accosted.<p>

"Dr. Brennan!" A high-pitched female voice yelled, immediately followed by a squeal. The next thing Brennan knew, two arms tightly encircled her and Daisy's face was unpleasantly close to her own.

Brennan stiffened in the young woman's grasp. She made no physical motion to free herself, but stated firmly, "Ms. Wick, unhand me immediately."

Daisy retracted her arms and took a step back, eyes lighting up as if she just realized she had invaded Brennan's personal space. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Brennan, but Lance told me that you're having a baby, and I am so excited for you! You are going to have the cutest little baby! I can't wait to see him – or her! Do you know the gender—"

"Ms. Wick."

Daisy's eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face. "I can't wait to see you all cute and big! You're gonna be the cutest pregnant woman ever!"

Brennan raised her voice. "Ms. Wick! Enough!"

"Oh, yes, Dr. Brennan. I apologize for my outburst. You know I don't mean any harm; I'm just so excited for you!"

"Yes, I can see that." Brennan looked at Daisy's still bouncing form up and down skeptically. "Has a body been brought in this morning?"

Daisy nodded vigorously. "Dr. Saroyan is in the autopsy suite with it right now." Brennan immediately began in the direction of her office, brushing past Daisy unintentionally. There was a pause before Daisy called after her, "Should I go with you?"

"Meet me in the autopsy room." She set her things down in her office and donned the signature blue lab coat before heading to the autopsy suite.

A heavily mutilated body lay on the table. Cam and Daisy hovered over the table, Daisy watching as Cam worked. Booth was at least fifteen feet away, facing away from the action, speaking earnestly into his cell phone. He turned at the sound of her entrance, eyes widening at the sight of her. He met her halfway, indicating at his phone and then the door as he said something about dental records.

Brennan smiled, whispering, "Wait for me in my office." Booth smiled in response and left the room.

Their exchange went largely unnoticed by Cam and Daisy. When Brennan reached the table, Cam glanced up, eyes widening in recognition. "Oh, good morning, Dr. Brennan."

"Anything I should know?" Brennan asked, pulling on a nearby pair of latex gloves.

"About the case? The victim's mother found the body early this morning when she came to drop off the victim's daughter. Time of death appears to have been approximately six yesterday evening. As far as other details go, well, look for yourself. We've seen this before."

Brennan squinted at the remains. What was left of the clothing was in shreds – she could make out what had once been a blouse and slacks among the carnage. The majority of the torso had been gashed open, fingernails cut off, and hair clipped unevenly. "The pattern of mutilation bears a marked semblance to the unsolved Turner case, although I would qualitatively conjecture that these wounds are more severe than the previous case."

"As far as I can tell, you're right. Identical methods, deeper slashes, larger contusions."

"I assume my examination will be required?"

"Yes. I should be finished here soon. Two hours and the bones are all yours."

Brennan turned to leave, but Daisy interrupted. "Dr. Brennan?"

"Assist Dr. Saroyan, Ms. Wick." Brennan stated without turning.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

* * *

><p>"Bones!" Booth jerked from his seat on Brennan's couch as Brennan entered her office.<p>

"No, Booth, sit down." Brennan set a hand on his shoulder and nudged him downward. His knees buckled without resistance. Brennan eased herself down onto the opposite side of the couch, leaving room between them.

"Bones, I—"

"You should have woken me up."

Booth spoke, gesturing apologetically. "Bones, I wanted you to get your sleep. It was 5 a.m., and I didn't think you would go back to sleep that late."

"Booth," Brennan looked him square in the eyes, "do you know what it is like for me to go to sleep with you beside me, but then wake up without you?"

Booth inhaled sharply, swallowed, and mouthed something inaudible before softly murmuring, "Bones…"

Brennan's eyes pierced Booth's as she frankly admitted, "I felt like I had been abandoned." Booth's eyes widened, and his mouth opened to say something, but Brennan spoke continued before he could. "When my parents left, Russ started sleeping in my room with me, on the floor. One morning I woke up and he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere in the house. He came back, but… that was the day the social worker came." She looked down, gulping, composing herself before ending her tangent. "While I appreciated the note, which quickly calmed my fears, I worried all morning until I saw you here."

"Bones, I'm so sorry. I just wanted the best for you."

In general Brennan form, her words were simple, truthful, and the message behind them obvious. "I know that, Booth. I know you. I am not angry. I just ask that you do not do it again."

"Never. I'll wake you up next time." Booth grinned. "It'll be practice for the baby."

Brennan's brow creased. "How will waking me up before a case be practice for the baby?"

"C'mon, Bones," Booth jibed. He elbowed her playfully. "Surely you know babies don't sleep through the night."

Her eyes lit up in recognition and her tone took on an excited quality. "Oh! Yes, I am familiar with that fact." She nodded enthusiastically, "I see the analog now. It will be practice for when I must wake up to breastfeed."

Booth glanced about nervously at where this conversation was turning. "Uh, yeah, that." Booth slid his hand to hers, squeezing it tightly. There were a few seconds of silence between the two of them as they each contemplated the conversation they had just had. Booth broke the silence, slipping his hand from hers as he asked, "So, the case?"

"Oh, yes." Her voice changed to a professional quality, "The body bears marked similarities to the Turner case. Were there any connections at the crime scene?"

"Other than both murders occurring in the victims' homes when they were alone and no sign of forced entry, no."

Brennan frowned. "Do you suspect a correlation?"

"Sweets does."

"Sweets thinks it's a serial killer? Is that why you didn't bring me along?"

"Uh," Booth shifted uncomfortably, fearing the truth might upset her. He finally conceded, "Yeah, actually."

Brennan's eyes shifted between Booth's rapidly, but she said nothing.

Booth's explanation was halting. "Bones, I didn't… I didn't tell you everything about that last case. Sweets – his profile – he said… he said if it was part of a string of serial murders, the killer would be targeting women she sees as motherly, and Bones, when the detective told me what the body looked like, I made that connection. I just," he gulped and glanced downward before returning his gaze hers. "I didn't want to put you at risk. Whoever this is, she could have still been hanging around, and if she'd seen you, Bones." His eyes softened, fixating momentarily upon her belly. His voice strengthened to his final resolve, "I won't put you at risk."

Brennan smiled slightly, but her voice was firm, "I can take care of myself, Booth."

His voice raised in pitch. "Did you see that body? She probably thought she could take care of herself, too."

"Booth, I am trained in –"

"I don't care what you're trained in! You're pregnant! Let me do the protecting!"

"Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't protect myself!"

"Yes, it—" He leaned back in the couch, away from her, and took a deep breath. "You know what? I'm not arguing." He pushed his hands down on his knees. "Next time, I'll wake you up, I'll ask you. Are you okay with that?"

Brennan nodded and said, "Yes."

"Okay." He pushed himself from her couch, turning around to say, "Let me know when you guys find something."

Brennan tilted her head. "_If_ we find something."

"Bones, you'll find something. You always do." He extended an arm to her, which she gratefully accepted, and helped her to her feet.

"Thank you."

"No problem, Bones." He grinned widely, dropped her hand, and took two steps toward the door before Brennan called after him.

"Booth, why were you watching Cam do the autopsy this morning?"

He turned, shaking his head as he spoke, "I wasn't."

Brennan raised an eyebrow and asked skeptically, "Then why were you in there?"

Booth smirked and said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Well, I was talking on the phone, getting feedback from Cam. But mostly, I was waiting for you."

Brennan indicated to the couch. "You could have waited in here."

"That would have been too obvious."

"Booth, everyone here knows." She smirked and crossed the distance between them. In an instant, her hands grabbed his collar, pulling him down to her level and kissing him. "No mistletoe necessary," she whispered against his ear. She pushed away, leaving a still bewildered Booth who had obviously been caught off guard. "Have a good day, Booth."

"You too, Bones." He left, eyes still wide, smiling magnificently.


End file.
